He knew he'd be stuck here on the john for

He knew he'd be stuck here on the john for a while, so he picked up a reader's digest. Good thing they write these to be read in the space of an average bowel movement, he thought.
It was then that John noticed (his name's irony aside) that all his magazines had been replaced with copies of Dostoevsky novels. "Great," he thought, "I should have
brought a "Field and Stream" along. John was an avid hunter. Geese mainly. His phone's ringtone was even a goose call. As he sat in the cramped Porta-potty, his pocket squawked
He immediately withdrew his phone and shot it precisely 7 times. "Looks like I found dinner! Right in my pocket, too." John pulled the phone apart and licked his lips.
It was stuffed with crab meat!
I took a taste and it melted in my mouth. The mixture was awful, so I spit it right out. The spit landed on my couch because I was a slouch. But it turns out crab meat
blends in well with my couch cushions. I left it there and felt sorry for the crab. Was this its true purpose in life; to be a spit pool, or had its destiny
gotten all messed up like on Fringe or another weird science fiction show with a mad scientist. I wish I was a mad scientist, cause
then could build my own personel robot brother named Rufus to hang out with me. He would be
so much fun bc he will like to dance and clean for me and i will teach him to say Roll Tide!

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