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Polishing a Turd

 

It was Dave who spotted it first. He’d been

out for a cig break, and there it was, in all

its glory. A bit later on, and it was Ben’s

turn to go out for a smoke. He confirmed

it. After I finished mopping around the

counter, I decided it was my turn to spark

one up, so I put my jacket on, rolled a roll-

up and stepped out. I stood in front of the

shop, pulling up the zip, searching for my

lighter. As I looked up I saw Ben on the

other side of the glass, pointing towards the

corner. So I took a stroll. I lit up, looked around.

Eventually, I saw it, and there was no doubt;

it had been produced by a human. It was

large and almost shiny. Almost immediately

I was overcome by a feeling of absolute

despair. I didn’t feel bad about the state of

humanity or any of that crap – the ordeal

of whoever had been caught so short that

they had to take a dump in the middle of a

car-park just off a main road didn’t concern

me. The real horror was the realisation that

this was Saturday night, and my highlight

so far was looking at a turd. It was absurd.

poetry

◄ Mature Student

The Acrobat ►

Comments

<Deleted User> (6895)

Mon 7th May 2012 18:20

holy shit!
shit 'ot!

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