実田みたうぞ

 

 

How is it that chickens can poop five different kinds of poop in ten minutes? I get that their digestive systems are different than ours, what with the crop and the gizzard and all. But you’d think that after eating the same thing for six days straight you’d poop the same, barring illness, for at least a couple of days. Oh, no. It’s like Lucky Elephant popcorn surprise every time their little birdy butts open to unleash a new horror. I’m fine with their loggish turds. Most critters poop them. I’m even OK with the bilious mudslides full of half-digested chicken nuggets. It’s the noxious orange blobs I have trouble with. It’s like the stuff they found in the Chernobyl lunch room two months after it melted down. What kind of colon wall lead is containing this stuff on the way through? I tell ya, if that nuclear lava came outa me, I’d expect to be looking like Bishop, the android from Alien with no lower torso.

The fourth kind is the water bomb with a little chunk of nasty floating in it. Again, where was this quantity of liquid thirty seconds before when the tidy little nuggets were falling out? The final type is the green miasma. A grotty muck that could easily be mistaken for lizard hurl, if you happen to have a four foot gila monster in your house eating lots of moldy spinach out of your garbage. Sadly, on account of our hosting a chickie rehab for a few days, I have all five types on my dining room floor at the moment. Aren’t I lucky?

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