The Doody Liberation Movement
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     I had to go and make doody one day at work but I never particularly
     like making ploopy in those gross stalls where everyone's <uch!> butt
     sits.  I won't even take a drink out of someones drink but I have to
     sit in the same tiny stall and put my butt right where someone just
     took a doody?! And sometimes the seat is still warm and I think about
     who might have just been there.  That skinny guy with the zits?
     Perhaps the fat fuck whose blubber must hang over the sides of the
     fuckin seat.  He must have to spread his cheeks to let a log fall and
     here I am sitting right where he was.  I layer and all that but...
     y'know. So anyway I try to save my doodymaking for when I get home
     but on this particular day I had a major problem which turned into a
     major revelation.

     I had ignored the original doody warning signs and held everything in.
     Business as usual as my brown business goes.  I stayed clinched for
     about and hour and felt perfectly fine. The office was slow and I was
     unconcerned.  But then, out of nowhere I had an absolute emergency.
     My eyes bulged out of my head and my butt cheeks clinched tight.
     Where the hell did this doody come from?  With such vengence! I stood
     to go to the doodyroom keeping a look of non panic on my face- but
     soon the horror set in.  The doody wanted out this second and wasn't
     taking no for an answer. Almost as if the head doody guy overid my
     anal control I openblasted into beige pants.  Loudly.  It felt great
     and was somewhat interesting because I was doodying standing upright
     which was a weird experience. It just kept coming and coming doody
     flowing down the backs of my legs and finally reaching the floor.  It
     was wet and warm and somehow oddly soothing. I let myself go and
     accepted the accident which brought back memories of childhood.  I
     fell into a daze shocked out by the brown experience. It stunk
     deliciously.  The yummy stench that only the doody producer can ever
     appreciate.

     I was startled back into reality by Jimmy the mailroom guy.  Jimmy
     knocked on my door- even though it was open and walked in.  I guess he
     caught the scent as soon as he stepped into my office because he
     covered his mouth with his shirt and asked me, "Goddamn! what stinks
     in here!?"  I responded with, "The stink isn't in here...  (I turned
     around and pointed to my brownoutted behind) The stink is in here!"
     He gagged and backed away from me saying, "Yo man! You shit your
     pants?!" I put my hands on my hips and said, "Yes I did!" proudly.
     Checking my watch I saw that I was late for a meeting and I ran
     downstairs trailing doody here and there as I went.

     I walked into the meeting with a big smile on my face and sat down
     with a splut.  The chick sitting next to me looked at me with a
     grimace and sniffed suspiciously.  There was a slight murmur that went
     around the table of people asking about the smell. The meeting began
     and I stayed silent and basked in my dooditity. I thought to myself..
     and spaced out...

     Ahh.. doody....doody...doody...doody.. . doody...doody...
     doody..doody...ahhh..doody...doody...mmmm...doody... brown
     brown...doody....mmm...ahhh...doody....doo-dee...doody....doody
     doody...mmmm...smelly...doody...doody...love...brown...brown......

     Finally I heard my name being yelled and my eyes opened to everyone
     staring at me grinning.  Some guy with a mustache who I always hated
     said, "What the hell are you thinking about!? We're in a meeting here!
     Wake up! What are you thinking?"

     Well... I told him I was thinking about my doody of course.  And
     showed him the back of my pants which were nice and chocolatey
     doodycaked. I explained how much I liked the doody in my pants and
     told everyone how it reminded me of childhood.  I told everyone that
     it felt good to be standing up and doodying rather than sitting and
     cowering in a stall... ashamed of brown glory.  I ranted about how
     wonderful it was to keep a doody with you instead of flushing it away.
      I let them all know that my stink smelled wonderful to me and how I
     loved to stink this way.  I told them that doody I was carrying in my
     shorts made a wonderful warm cushion.  I told them that I have been in
     a state of bliss ever since the divine accident and I implored them
     all to try it for themselves.
     They stared for a moment silently until one person quietly said, "I do
     it at home..." I put my arm around him and said, "See he does it at
     home! And you love it right?!" He broke down in tears and exclaimed
     that he indeed did love the doody being in his pants.  I grabbed a
     woman by the shoulders and asked her, "You have thought about it
     haven't you!? Haven't you!" She too broke down and reached into her
     purse.  She had a small jar filled with doody in there. It was from
     the morning and she was bringing it home.  She too felt the feeling of
     tragic flushing loss from making doody in the primitve toilet.

     Before the meeting adjourned we all had full loads in our pants and
     big grins on our faces.  The shame and repression of doody making
     finally allievated and we were free! Free to spread the word of brown
     freedom.  Freedom to make in our pants whenever and whereever we
     want  to and take one step closer to the brown utopia of which we all
     dream in our heart of farts.

     the end>