I’m so sorry.
Gather round, kids, for I have a story that might make you rue the rosy-fingered dawn that brought you into this day. Ready? Ready!
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My family poops big. Maybe it’s genetic, maybe it’s our diet, but everyone births giant logs of crap. If anyone has laid a mega-poop, you know that sometimes it won’t flush. It lays across the hole in the bottom of the bowl and the vortex of draining water merely gives it a spin as it mocks you.
Growing up, this was a common enough occurrence that our family had a poop knife. It was an old rusty kitchen knife that hung on a nail in the laundry room, only to be used for that purpose. It was normal to walk through the hallway and have someone call out “hey, can you get me the poop knife”?
I thought it was standard kit. You have your plunger, your toilet brush, and your poop knife.
Your poop knife! Y’know, the finely tuned metallic blade you use to artfully slice through your excrement so the toilet tubes can gurgle it down with ease! I already have a lot of questions, starting with this one: How big are these poops??? Can we get some dimensions?
Actually, maybe I don’t want to know the dimensions.
Fast forward to 22. It’s been a day or two between poops and I’m over at my friend’s house. My friend was the local dealer and always had “guests” over, because you can’t buy weed without sitting on your ass and sampling it for an hour. I excuse myself and lay a gigantic turd. I look down and see that it’s a sideways one, so I crack the door and call out for my friend. He arrives and I ask him for his poop knife.
Your poop knife, I say. I need to use it. Please.
“Wtf is a poop knife?”
Obviously he has one, but maybe he calls it by a more delicate name. A fecal cleaver? A Dung divider? A guano glaive? I explain what it is I want and why I want it.
He starts giggling. Then laughing. Then lots of people start laughing. It turns out, the music stopped and everyone heard my pleas through the door. It also turns out that none of them had poop knives, it was just my fucked up family with their fucked up bowels. FML.
I told this to my wife last night, who was amused and horrified at the same time. It turns out that she did not know what a poop knife was and had been using the old rusty knife hanging in the utility closet as a basic utility knife. Thankfully she didn’t cook with it, but used it to open Amazon boxes.
She will be getting her own utility knife now.
The wife uses the poop knife not on poop.
I’m not married or anything, but if my spouse were using a utensil in the toilet, I’D WANNA KNOW.
Oh, and the user added that the poop knife was in the laundry room and not the bathroom because “we only had one poop knife, and the laundry room was central to all three bathrooms.”
“I have no idea why we didn’t have three poop knives. All I know is that we didn’t. We had the one. Possibly because my father was notoriously cheap about the weirdest things. So yes, we shared our poop knife.”
Much to my surprise, some people in the comments not only were familiar with the concept of a poop knife, but they had their own bowel movement chopping methods!
IDK guys, what you do in your own home is your business, but there’s gotta be a better way. Nutritional supplements? Better plumbing? Something????
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Anyway, there it is! A poop knife! If you didn’t know, now you know, and I’m sure your life feels well and truly enriched by this story.