Everyone Poops, except Poop Ninjas
Author’s Note: Don’t worry, I will resist the nearly overwhelming urge to include pictures of poop in this post. If you’re disgusted by anything, let it be only my words.
It’s true. I bet you never thought about it, but even I poop. Everyone poops. Everyone but Robocop and Poop Ninjas.
Poop Ninja [poop nin-juh] Noun:
A person who is in a bathroom stall already mid-poop when you enter the bathroom. For the duration of your time in the bathroom, they cease all activity and just sit there silently. The Poop Ninja seems to hope that you will not notice their feet nor guess the reason they are sitting on a toilet with the stall doors closed and their pants down.
It is generally assumed that the Poop Ninja resumes their filthy poopjutsu after you exit the bathroom, though this has never been proven.
The Poop Ninja makes no sense. It’s so pointless and ridiculous, and I don’t understand it.
Poop Ninjas: I know you’re there. I can smell you and I can see your feet. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I want to hear your butthole sound off, but can we be adults for a second? I’ll try, and I can take a pretty good guess at why you’re in there in the first place. If there’s any other reason for a man to take his pants down and sit on a toilet, I’m hoping that it involves an industrial accident and a metric shit-ton [sorry, I had to] of bad karma. So assuming you’ve never gotten your dick caught in a threshing machine, that simply means you’re in there because you have to take a crap. Congratulations, you’re just another human.
When you pucker up the second another person walks into your private little filth ceremony, you make it awkward as shit. It’s already gross enough as it is, and then you go and up the proverbial ante. It’s like you’re actually saying to me: “My butt’s not budging until you leave.” Again, I have no desire to actually listen to your symphony of sin, but it’s expected. I’m in a bathroom after all, and people generally only come in here for one of two reasons. When I bravely walked in the door I knew what I was signing up for, and I knew there was a fifty-fifty chance it was number two.
It creates an artificial atmosphere in what can be an already uncomfortable environment. Take a slaughterhouse for instance, another already uncomfortable environment. I have no desire to see what goes on in a slaughterhouse. I can live another 3000 years and never step foot inside a slaughterhouse and die happy. But imagine if I somehow had to walk through a working slaughterhouse and everything was just on standby. It smells like death. All the cows or cow pieces or whatever are all lined up on motionless conveyor belts. Blood is splattered in all the usual places, but all the machines are shut down and no one’s moving. The cows, the people, the machines; they all just stopped their normal gruesome process and are staring at you. I know the slaughtering will resume the moment I leave, and while I’m grateful that I don’t have to see any of it, I’m sure this would be very, very uncomfortable. Pinching a loaf with another human in the bathroom doesn’t seem quite as challenging anymore does it?
I have an inquisitive mind and I often find myself asking questions. For example, if you’re not pooping in there what the shit are you doing? Just sitting there with all of your junk hanging out watching me pee in the urinal through the slots of the stall? Are you judging how many times I shake when I’m done? Are you taking notes? The silence is palpable in all the wrong ways. If you were in there alone just shitting your brains out like a normal person sure it would be plenty gross for me, but at least we’d be in our own separate worlds. You’d be in there sinning, and I’d be out here peeing as fast as I safely can without making a mess so that I can escape your cacophony of evil. We’d each be completely focused on our own individual tasks instead of being forced, by you, to share the same graceless sphere of time/space together because you’re too shameful to shit like a grownup. It’s like you’re holding the entire bathroom hostage with your asshole, you asshole.
Solving the Problem
In order to solve this issue we need to identify its source. Are you embarrassed? Well you should be, because you’re awful. But that’s no reason to make other people feel awkward. You’re the one who decided to drop a deuce at work, so you’re the one who needs to shoulder that embarrassment like a man instead of trying to run away from it with awkward silence. You knew this could happen. You’re in there because you had to take a crap, so just own it and crap it up. There’s no magical smoke pellet that you can throw at the ground and yell “POOP NINJA, VANISH!” while you teleport away. News flash: You can’t teleport. You’re not invisible. Everyone knows you’re in there, and why. Don’t hide in shame, you coward. Own it.
Don’t skulk silently in bathroom stalls with your pants dropped purposelessly around your ankles. Don’t squirt silent, deathly smells from the supposed safety of darkness. Be a man and own up to your shit. Don’t be a Poop Ninja.