porcelain porridge tee

You have just finished the leftover Chinese take out that you found sticky in the fridge a week later. Approximately 30 min. after guzzling down some stale rice and slimy nuggets of some sort of chicken/cat you start to feel your poor dining decision crawling through your lower bowels ready to be birthed. You awkwardly waddle off the couch with your hand grasped both cheeks together as you desperately search for an open bathroom that doesn't contain your roommate in the middle of a pube shaving frenzy. when you reach the bathroom on the second floor you pull down your pants, turn, and roost all at the same time with the swiftness of a naked Olympic athlete. When you finish laying your egg, out of curiosity, you hoist your balls out of the way and peer down into the toilet. The shit that you have just made has the color and consistency of the Quaker instant in your cupboard. As you sit there amused with your hand on your junk admiring your work you remember that you are single and now in no condition to mingle. You decide to rub one off and add a teaspoon of sugar syrup to the top of your porridge mound. As you sit in post wank depression you get the idea that this could be frozen and sold as modern art and is too good a sight not to share with someone. You whip out your phone and send a snap crap to most of your snapchat contacts. mission complete you whip and struggle your pants up as you flush and send Bernie (yes you've named it) out to sea.