Ask yourself this,
Pooping, we all do it.
Toddlers do it, Teenagers do it, Parents do it, Our grandparents do it, the homeless people do it, even people like me do it.
Some do it with class, like properly — with a bidet and all.
Some do it on the street, out in the open — like an exhibitionist, for the world to see.
I saw a dog poop, and this lovely lady who was walking her was kind enough to pick it up and throw it in the bin.
I would never do that another one’s poop.
But this lady, she had the courage do it.
She even had a Louis Vuitton purse, so you can understand why I was confused as to why she would even bother.
“Let it be, lady”, let another soul step on that poop — I thank to myself.
Yet, the lady continued to do it anyways.
Her persistence, was shocking yet exhilarating.
I wonder though, if this lady is brave enough to pick up a dog’s poop out in public.
Why shame the homeless for pooping out in the open?
After-all, they’re all living creatures and excrement is excrement.
It’s all the same shit.
Some might have traces of vegges in it.
Some might be green.
Some might light brown.
Some might even be dark brown, which I’ve been told means there’s blood in it.
Some times it might even be red, which means there’s no need to worry — you just need a bit of lubricant.
I began my journey at the Sydney, Airport — which is very well built and has quite a well-maintained public bathroom.
No traces of poop here, time to move on.
I landed in Dubai, now Dubai is classy — they like to keep their shit clean.
The toilets are brilliant, they’re warm, they spray water and magical liquid that makes your butt all shinny and clean.
It even dries it off for you — now that’s class.
I give Dubai, a thumbs up for pooping!
In India, the story was a little different — there’s no poop shaming in India, you can go anywhere you want.
Literally anywhere, I saw a gentleman just take one in the middle of a busy train station — he didn’t seem to care, neither did anybody else; hence not my place to judge, go about your business my man!
Then this sudden feeling occurred, all this time I’ve been worried about other people’s pooping habits; I’ve forgotten to take a look at my own.
I squeezed and squeezed, but not even a tiny droplet came out.
I was worried, what if I have bowel cancer?
Oh Lord, how my digestive system has betrayed me.
I took to the doctor, as I awaited quite frivolously for my trustee doc to write my some good ol’ fun prescriptions.
The doctor took a glance at me, not even at my rectum.
Glaring into my soul with his hypnotic eyes — mesmerising.
“Doc, I’m not here to fall in love with you. Just lay it on me, which one is it — Cancer or the other one I can’t spell?”
“So are we doing this?”, I repeat more words hoping to shake some sense into doc.
Finally, doc exhales and tells me to sit down and relax — “take a deep breath”, he says.
“What now, Doc?”
“Well…firstly. Stop wasting my fucking time. Secondly, you’ve been worried about other people’s shit for so long, you forgot to eat! If there ain’t no food in your belly, there ain’t no poop coming out that’s smelly”
It made sense, we shared a warm embrace and off into the sunset I set — with a snickers bar in my hand from the vending machine, I now knew to survive; I’d need to take better notice of my digestive treats.