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The Tell-Tale Fart |
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Oct 18, 2018 23:59
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| # ? May 10, 2024 05:46 |
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While I nodded, nearly tapping, suddenly there came a tapping As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my back door "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "Trying to get in my back door -- Only this, 'cause I'm a whore." |
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Oct 19, 2018 00:00
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BYOB is a mature forum for adults who are grown-ups. |
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Oct 19, 2018 00:01
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Reven … never mooo.. wait its poop. forever more. here is your adult joke about poop and ??? lol
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Oct 19, 2018 00:03
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[upon exiting the public restroom, delivered to a man waiting] In their consequences, these events have terrified -- have tortured -- have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. |
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Oct 19, 2018 00:04
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"For the love of God, Montressor!" "Yes-" I replied. "PHHHRRRRRRRBBBBPPPBPRPBPRRPBRPBRRBRRTTTTTT" |
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Oct 19, 2018 00:10
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i heard only a soft, low sound, a muffled flushing of water. my heart grew sick; it must have been the cold. i hurried to force the last stone into its position. and I put the old newspapers again in a pile against the back of the toilet. for half an hour now no human hand has touched them. no hu... *yelling from down the hallway* "who the gently caress put a wall of bricks over the toilet!?"
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Oct 19, 2018 00:14
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there was a long tumultuous shouting sound like the voice of a thousand waters --and the deep and dank tarn at my bum closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the "House Of Flusher."
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Oct 19, 2018 00:32
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The Farts in the case of M Valdemar |
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Oct 19, 2018 00:36
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THE "Rump Breath" had long devastated the bathroom. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous.
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Oct 19, 2018 00:39
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The system of Dr. Farrt and Professor Klogger |
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Oct 19, 2018 00:57
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Movements of movements passing... It is now 1831... and as always, I am absorbed with a delicate thought. It is how pooping has indefinite sensations to which end, farting is an essential, since the comprehension of sweet smell is our most indefinite conception. Farting, when combined with a modicum of fiber, is pooping. Farting without the fiber is simply farting. Without farting or a fibrous BM, aroma becomes stench, man becomes carcass, toilet becomes tomb, and the bowels are but for a moment motionless. |
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Oct 19, 2018 01:01
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Manifisto posted:there was a long tumultuous shouting sound like the voice of a thousand waters --and the deep and dank tarn at my bum closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the "House Of Flusher." Manifisto posted:THE "Rump Breath" had long devastated the bathroom. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. |
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Oct 19, 2018 01:01
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alnilam posted:Movements of movements passing... It is now 1831... and as always, I am absorbed with a delicate thought. It is how pooping has indefinite sensations to which end, farting is an essential, since the comprehension of sweet smell is our most indefinite conception. Farting, when combined with a modicum of fiber, is pooping. Farting without the idea is simply farting. Without farting or a fibrous BM, aroma becomes stench, man becomes carcass, toilet becomes tomb, and the bowels are but for a moment motionless. |
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Oct 19, 2018 01:01
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Murders in the Poo Morgue.
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Oct 19, 2018 03:24
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Oct 19, 2018 03:52
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Oct 19, 2018 04:23
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Oct 19, 2018 05:51
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Oct 19, 2018 05:59
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FactsAreUseless posted:The Tell-Tale Fart The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a gluteal tuba in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The turd tremor became more distinct: --it continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness, a colonic calliope --until, at length, I found that the rump roar was not within my ears. No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the grundle rumble increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a duck makes when trod upon. I gasped for breath -- and yet the officers heard nor smelt it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the thunder from down under steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the cheek squeak steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men -- but the turtle burp steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore -- I blamed the dog! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the butt bongos arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Smelled not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! -- They smelled! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror! --this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! --and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder! -- "Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! --here, here! --it is the beefing of his hideous rear end!" |
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Oct 19, 2018 06:14
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lmfao this is the worst thread in history |
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Oct 19, 2018 06:17
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FactsAreUseless posted:lmfao this is the worst thread in history it is and i'm happy for you |
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Oct 19, 2018 07:19
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FactsAreUseless posted:lmfao this is the worst thread in history pls no threadshitting |
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Oct 19, 2018 11:44
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alnilam posted:Movements of movements passing... It is now 1831... and as always, I am absorbed with a delicate thought. It is how pooping has indefinite sensations to which end, farting is an essential, since the comprehension of sweet smell is our most indefinite conception. Farting, when combined with a modicum of fiber, is pooping. Farting without the fiber is simply farting. Without farting or a fibrous BM, aroma becomes stench, man becomes carcass, toilet becomes tomb, and the bowels are but for a moment motionless. |
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Oct 19, 2018 15:36
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alnilam posted:pls no threadshitting pls no thread pooping
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Oct 19, 2018 17:34
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ONCE upon a toilet dreary, while I strained, weak and weary, Over many chimichangas I had consumed from the dollar store, While I nodded, nearly crapping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber floor. "'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping on my chamber floor— Only this, and nothing more." And the sad uncertain rustling of the pants and toilet paper Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic dreams of erotic splendor; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "'Tis some homo entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late homo entreating entrance at my chamber door;— This it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, " truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was crapping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber floor, That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I looked down upon the floor;—— A foot I saw, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no straight man ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Amour?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, ""Amour?!" Merely this, and nothing more. Back in the crapper turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is someone at my stall door; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore— Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;— 'Perhaps Tis a truck stop whore!" Open here I flung the door, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a burly man of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, entered my crapper door— Reached to grab my Phallus just above the crapper floor— Stood, then squatted, and nothing more. Then this manly man beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance he wore, "Though thy head be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Macho, bearded and wandering from your Nightly chore— Tell me what thy age is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Trucker, "34." Much I marvelled this studly man child to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing a man’s head explore— Burly man crouched down upon his chamber floor, At the virile peak of "34” This I sat engaged in thrusting, but still no nut yet busting To the man whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the toilet’s porcelain tank that the lamplight gloated o'er, Bodies moving the lamplight gloating o'er, Working to release that manly spore! Then, me thought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by devils whose hoof-falls smashed upon the cement floor. "Wretch," he cried, "thy rear end hath lent thee—by your bowels a scent released thee Stench—stench foulness from the depths!” he swore! “Wait, oh wait I was so close can’t you suck some more?!" Quoth the Trucker, "Nevermore!" "Be that sound and smell of farting, fiend!" He shrieked, upstarting— "Get thee back into the crapper and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black skid marks as token, or no graffiti that we have spoken! Leave my manly hymen unbroken!—scrawl not my name upon the stall door! “Can I see you again?” I did implore! Quoth the Trucker, "Nevermore." Upon the toilet he still is sitting, still is sitting but never making GBS threads On the pallid flaccid Phallus he tugs till sore; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his dick’s shadow on the floor; And my soul from semen that lies splattered on the floor Shall be lifted—nevermore! Weener Beater fucked around with this message at 22:57 on Dec 6, 2018 |
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Oct 19, 2018 21:16
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I would define, in brief, the poetry of turds as the rhythmical creation of Beauty. |
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Oct 19, 2018 23:38
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Weener Beater posted:ONCE upon a toilet dreary, while I strained, weak and weary, https://i.imgur.com/QKTkerO.mp4 |
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Oct 20, 2018 00:04
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Weener Beater posted:ONCE upon a toilet dreary, while I strained, weak and weary, |
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Oct 20, 2018 04:27
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oh my god lol you should print this out and put it on the inside stall doors of every truck stop you can find.
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Oct 20, 2018 06:48
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Twenty Four posted:oh my god lol you should print this out and put it on the inside stall doors of every truck stop you can find. Hahaha! Do you think the clientele would appreciate my purple prose? |
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Oct 20, 2018 22:15
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Oct 20, 2018 22:46
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Oct 21, 2018 10:25
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EDGAR ALLEN POOP versus HOGBERT PUMPERNICKEL!!! - EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY!!! (Gone SEXUAL???) |
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Oct 22, 2018 12:47
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lmao |
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Oct 22, 2018 16:47
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alnilam posted:Movements of movements passing... It is now 1831... and as always, I am absorbed with a delicate thought. It is how pooping has indefinite sensations to which end, farting is an essential, since the comprehension of sweet smell is our most indefinite conception. Farting, when combined with a modicum of fiber, is pooping. Farting without the fiber is simply farting. Without farting or a fibrous BM, aroma becomes stench, man becomes carcass, toilet becomes tomb, and the bowels are but for a moment motionless. Weener Beater posted:ONCE upon a toilet dreary, while I strained, weak and weary, FactsAreUseless posted:lmfao this is the |
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Oct 22, 2018 19:07
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Oct 22, 2018 21:15
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Farecoal posted:EDGAR ALLEN POOP versus HOGBERT PUMPERNICKEL!!! - EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY!!! (Gone SEXUAL???) |
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Oct 23, 2018 00:06
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And now was acknowledged the presence of the Brown Stench. He had come like a queef in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the stool-speckled halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Shadows and Subsidence and the Brown Stench held illimitable dominion over all.
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Oct 23, 2018 07:44
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FactsAreUseless posted:literally recoiling from this post IRL FactsAreUseless REACTS: EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY!!?? - SO MUCH WIN!! |
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Oct 23, 2018 13:12
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