All Write, Already!

I looked around. The place was even classier than my friends had made it out to be. Not bad at all. The hostess looked over at me. "Buzzing or non-buzzing?"

I know what you're thinking, you stupid homocentric human. But we mayflies got to eat too. Why shouldn't we go out to a nice, fancy place every once in a while?

I placed my order, a nice rare piece of meat, and the waiter asked me if I would like some dung with that. A capital idea, but I must admit I'm no sophisticated conoisseur of poop. I asked if he could assist me with my order, and he graciously agreed.

I began by asking him about the Chateau de Equus Millieu-Brun. "An excellent choice. Collected four days ago from the Wilcox farm, it has aged very well, collecting a deep sienna tone and a pungent aroma."

But my eye had already moved down the poop list and caught something else. "What's this 'Double-D Acres'?"

"Ah, yes, daschhund diarrhea -- collected from the most upscale dog park on the north side ..."

"Uh, listen. I'm not really into working dogs. Do you have anything human?"

"We do have an excellent Sepia Septic Seepage today. But I must warn you, this vintage has a very high e. coli count. It might be too much for you."

"Look! It's not like I'm going to be alive tomorrow or anything, I want to enjoy myself to the fullest. Here, let me tell you what I like, and you pick accordingly. Best shit I ever had was over in the Boones' pasture, some ..."

"WHAT? Your idea of a good dung is Boone's Farm? I can't believe it!" He ripped the poop list from my hands and fumed away. "Nopoopforyou! Nopoopforyou!"