Shit

Sometimes when I am using the bathroom, and I’m sitting there waiting for things to happen, I think about what it means to be alive and to be a man. Then when I am finished I get up and see that what I have produced in the bowl isn’t “shit”, but something tiny and rodent-like, more deserving of the term “pellets” or “droppings.”  At these times, I think to myself that I can not call myself a man, not like when I leave behind articles that are more deserving of the term “shit.”

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