Gravel Gertie Discusses the Mysterious Roadside Pooper

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My sister Luler-belle called me this morning to share an interesting tale. While she was stopped at a busy intersection on her way to work, some movement caught her eye. About 30 yards away, a man pulled over on the shoulder, walked around to the passenger side of his pick up, opened the door, got out a roll of toilet paper, pulled down his britches, and squatted.

Gawking, Luler-belle almost sat through the green light until the car behind her honked. As she drove by she hollered, "I hope everything comes out all right!" For the rest of her drive, Luler-belle was plagued with thoughts, "That Mexican food he ate last night must be burning his hiney!" "At least he won't have to strike a match!" "I wonder if his wife tried a new recipe last night."

I ain't no potty psychologist, but I do like to take a gander at certain special human beans and share my thoughts with the fellers at the feed shop. This Mysterious Roadside Pooper (MRP) gave me all kinds of unanswered questions.

First off, he had a roll of toilet paper with him? This showed that it wasn't the first time he had to stop and plop. After being married for almost seventeen years with a gaggle of boys to raise, I know firsthand that men consider toilet paper optional, "Ain't that what underwear's for?" They asked. A four-pack of toilet paper will last them throughout a presidency.

I also wondered if the MRP thought the truck door concealed him or if he just had to go so bad he didn't care? Come on, now. When I have to go, I go as soon as my belly gets to feelin heavy. Ah, but I'm female, ya see. Most males I know will hold it as long as they can just so that they can pass as much gas as possible. It's like a male dominance thang - whoever farts the loudest or longest is the king of turd mountain. For example, in a business meeting, you just might hear:

"We need another router on this hub, last week the server crashed like ... pfffffbbbbbbbttttttttttt."

"Wow, Roger, you're the man - that's why you make the big bucks!"

And all them male coworker fellers'll look at Roger with tear-filled eyes.

You know, since men stay in the bathroom for hours, wouldn't the MRP's legs get tired from squatting? Maybe he could lean against the fender. I wonder if he had any reading material on hand? Nah, he probably didn't need it because he could just take in the beauty of the great outdoors while he pondered life's great meaning and recycled his beans.

Another thing that I wondered about the MRP was the fact that he was so comfortable squatting on the roadside. He apparently had the stop, plop, and roll routine down pat. Did he have indoor plumbing? At least his truck had toilet paper! He had some modern conveniences if he had toilet paper - I would've been really worried if he had grabbed a great big stalk of poke salet or a handful of corncobs off the passenger seat.

One explanation might be that the MRP's an unmarried man. Not many women would put up with going outside to wee in the middle of the night, much less having a man around that lets it go whenever and wherever he can.

Lots of times when we Southerners potty-train, we just turn the kids loose butt-nekkid in the back yard. The little ones would take care of 'business', see where the 'business' came from and then decided that the 'business' was best left AWAY from the body.

I bet right after the MRP was potty trained, he just never got over the thrill of stopping and plopping there amongst the dandelions and kudzu. Maybe he ran out of leaves and that's where the toilet paper came from.

I wonder what the MRP was going to do with the used toilet paper when he was done? Since this was a major highway, surely he wouldn't leave his, ah, droppings and dirty wads of toilet paper on the side of the road! Maybe he had a pooper scooper in the back of his truck. Heck, if that's the case, then why didn't the MRP just take care of his business in the back of his truck? Maybe he felt he was making a positive contribution to the environment by fillin' up the side of the road with fertilizer.

It's too bad that I wasn't the one that saw this special man. I probably would've pulled over next to him, (waited until he was done, a'course), and then talked with him to get the answers to all my questions.

Or, maybe not - some things are best left unknown.

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Copyright © 2002, Gravel Gertie, Angela Gillaspie, All Rights Reserved
Revised - 04/21/02