I read a lot. I have my go-to websites that I check daily, and sometimes hourly. The other night, I was sent this story from a friend of mine, and it put me in tears. I decided it was time to share this story with you, as well.

A post on Reddit by user named - I can't make this up - LearnedButt, shared his story of a Poop Knife. Rather than tell you the story, I'll share a few excerpts from his masterpiece of a post.

He begins his story:

"My family poops big. Maybe it's genetic, maybe it's our diet, but everyone births giant logs of [poop]. If anyone has laid a mega-poop, you know that sometimes it won't flush. It lays across the hole in the bottom of the bowl and the vortex of draining water merely gives it a spin as it mocks you. Growing up, this was a common enough occurrence that our family had a poop knife. It was an old rusty kitchen knife that hung on a nail in the laundry room, only to be used for that purpose. It was normal to walk through the hallway and have someone call out "hey, can you get me the poop knife"? I thought it was standard kit. You have your plunger, your toilet brush, and your poop knife."

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Still with me? Now, growing up, potty humor was my go-to humor. Actually, it still is today. Give me a ketchup bottle that poots when you squeeze it, and I'll show you a man that is entertained for hours. At this point in the story, I was trying to catch my breath. Now that we have the backstory, let's continue down the hole of this story.

"Fast forward to 22. It's been a day or two between poops and I'm over at my friend's house. I look down and see that it's a sideways one, so I crack the door and call out for my friend. He arrives and I ask him for his poop knife. "My what?" Your poop knife, I say. I need to use it. Please. "What is a poop knife?" Obviously he has one, but maybe he calls it by a more delicate name. A fecal cleaver? A Dung divider? A guano glaive? I explain what it is I want and why I want it.

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This is that time in everyone's life when you realize that one part of your childhood was a total lie. You have that out-of-body experience and begin to play out scenarios of your past all at once. Now, as he is connecting the dots, or perhaps corn kernels, he realizes that someone else close to him has also been affected by this rancid revelation.

"I told this to my wife last night, who was amused and horrified at the same time. It turns out that she did not know what a poop knife was and had been using the old rusty knife hanging in the utility closet as a basic utility knife. Thankfully she didn't cook with it, but used it to open Amazon boxes."

So, there you have it. Perhaps we can use this as a lesson in communication with your spouse, or family. A good thing to take away from this story is that his wife now has her own utility knife to open boxes and such.

Hopefully, this story will cut through some of the bad vibes of your week and leave you on a streak of laughs for the weekend. Perhaps it will inspire someone out there to develop a line of poo cutlery, decorative to match different bathroom themes.

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