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Poop Knife

    Poop knife started from a story on r/confession in Reddit
    An archive of the original story

    The Poop Knife is a post on Reddit about Original Poster (OP) and his family owning a knife specifically for slicing huge poops stuck in their toilet bowl. The original post has since been deleted but its archived version still exists.

    My family poops big. Maybe it's genetic, maybe it's our diet, but everyone births giant logs of crap. 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.
    
    Fast forward to 22. It's been a day or two between poops and I'm over at my friend's house. My friend was the local dealer and always had 'guests' over, because you can't buy weed without sitting on your ass and sampling it for an hour. I excuse myself and lay a gigantic turd. 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. "Wtf 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. He starts giggling. Then laughing. Then lots of people start laughing. It turns out, the music stopped and everyone heard my pleas through the door. It also turns out that none of them had poop knives, it was just my fucked up family with their fucked up bowels. FML.
    
    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. She will be getting her own utility knife now.
    
    [Edit: Common question - Why was this not in the bathroom instead of the laundry room? Answer. We only had one poop knife, and the laundry room was central to all three bathrooms. I have no idea why we didn't have three poop knives. All I know is that we didn't. We had the one. Possibly because my father was notoriously cheap about the weirdest things. So yes, we shared our poop knife.]
    

    Alternate formatting

    My family poops big. Maybe it's genetic, maybe it's our diet, but everyone births giant logs of crap. 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.
    
    Fast forward to 22. It's been a day or two between poops and I'm over at my friend's house. My friend was the local dealer and always had 'guests' over, because you can't buy weed without sitting on your ass and sampling it for an hour. I excuse myself and lay a gigantic turd. 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.
    
    "Wtf 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.
    
    He starts giggling. Then laughing. Then lots of people start laughing. It turns out, the music stopped and everyone heard my pleas through the door. It also turns out that none of them had poop knives, it was just my fucked up family with their fucked up bowels. FML.
    
    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.
    
    She will be getting her own utility knife now.
    
    [Edit: Common question - Why was this not in the bathroom instead of the laundry room? Answer. We only had one poop knife, and the laundry room was central to all three bathrooms. I have no idea why we didn't have three poop knives. All I know is that we didn't. We had the one. Possibly because my father was notoriously cheap about the weirdest things. So yes, we shared our poop knife.]

    Vaporeon-Meursault copypasta

      Vaporeon-Meursault copypasta is based on the original Vaporeon Is Literally Build For Human copypasta that started in 4chan.

      Hey guys, did you know that in terms of male and female sex, Meursault is the best sinner ?
      
      Not only is he French, which is mostly comprised of hot men, Meursault is 6"00' tall and 70.9 pounds of muscles, this means he is strong enough to be able to dick you down best, and with his impressive Base Stats for HP and access to Pursuance, you can be rough with him.
      
      Due to his young biology, there's no doubt in my mind that an aroused Meursault would be incredibly erect, so erect that you could easily have sex with him for hours without him getting soft.
      
      With his abilitie to revive, he can easily recover from fatigue with Dante being there. But no other sinner comes close to this level of compatibility.
      
      Also, fun fact, if you fuck him enough, you can make Meursault moan. Meursault is literally built to fuck you. Ungodly defense stat+high HP pool+revival means he can give cock all day, all positions, without condoms or protection from god, and still come for more

      Dune sand thumper

        🏜️💥✊Thump 🏜️💥✊Thump 🏜️💥✊Thump 🏜️💥✊Thump**

        What the fuck did you just say to me Stilgar?

          What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Feydakin, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on the Harkonnen spice fleets, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in spicy gorilla warfare and I’m the top worm rider in the entire southern Fremen forces. You are nothing to me but just another water bottle. I will wipe you the fuck out with prescience the likes of which has never been seen before on this Dune, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the radio? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of Fremen spies across Arrakis and your shield data is being traced right now so you better prepare for the sandstorm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can see any past, any future, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my knife. Not only am I extensively trained in street knife warfare, but I have access to the entire arsenal of my dad's nuclear arsenal and I will use it to its full extent to return your water to the fucking desert, you little shit. If only you could have known what holy jihad your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you Lisan al'Gaib-cursed idiot. I will shit spice all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo 

          Dune Navy Seals copypasta

          What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Sardaukar, and I’ve been involved in secret raids on the Atreides, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in kanly warfare and I’m the top duelist in the entire Imperium. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Imperium, mark my words. You think you can get away with saying shit to me in front of the Landsraad? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my network of mentats across the Imperium and your location is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of House Corino and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your ass off the face of Arrakis, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your tongue. You didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, Harkonnen. 

          The Missile Knows Where It Is

            The missile knows where it is at all times. It knows this because it knows where it isn't. By subtracting where it is from where it isn't, or where it isn't from where it is (whichever is greater), it obtains a difference, or deviation. The guidance subsystem uses deviations to generate corrective commands to drive the missile from a position where it is to a position where it isn't, and arriving at a position where it wasn't, it now is. Consequently, the position where it is, is now the position that it wasn't, and it follows that the position that it was, is now the position that it isn't.
            In the event that the position that it is in is not the position that it wasn't, the system has acquired a variation, the variation being the difference between where the missile is, and where it wasn't. If variation is considered to be a significant factor, it too may be corrected by the GEA. However, the missile must also know where it was.
            The missile guidance computer scenario works as follows. Because a variation has modified some of the information the missile has obtained, it is not sure just where it is. However, it is sure where it isn't, within reason, and it knows where it was. It now subtracts where it should be from where it wasn't, or vice-versa, and by differentiating this from the algebraic sum of where it shouldn't be, and where it was, it is able to obtain the deviation and its variation, which is called error.

            No one outpizzas the hut

              Out Pizza the Hut is a catchphrase inspired by Pizza Hut’s slogan, “No One OutPizzas The Hut,” which started in 2016.

              No one outpizzas the hut. trust me. I've tried. I've tried so hard to outpizza the hut and it cost me everything. no matter how much cheese, how many cheap toppings i put on my pizza i always got outpizza'd by the hut. No matter how much my pizzas tasted like plastic, pizza hut pizzas always tasted even more synthetic. for months I've been severely depressed trying to figure it out. it all started as a little hobby, a bit of a goof - "can i outpizza the hut?" but it soon became my obsession and eventually my downfall. the fateful moment i had that thought was the moment I doomed myself. They must have some sort of secret ingredient i thought. after trying literally everything from the supermarket and not coming close to the plasticy taste of the hut i actually went insane. i started clawing at my skin, scratching my face for hours with my long sharp fingernails. at first it was almost unnoticeable but i knew i could not hide the scars forever, soon enough karen would find out. I needed to put an end to this but the only way to do that would be to outpizza the hut, as i knew. so i tried one last ingredient. i cut off a piece of my own arm and put it on the pizza. i added the shittiest sauce i had and cheese made from 50 percent plastic and 50 percent wood chips and baked it real good. the taste was almost exactly like pizza hut but the meat wasn't tender enough. i knew it had to be younger meat. from someone much younger than me. i knew what had to be done. there was a moment of doubt as i grabbed the knife and went into holly's room, up to her little crib while karen was at work. but i knew what had to be done. I'd finally done it. I've created a pizza even shittier than pizza hut or so I thought. but it still wasn't horrible enough. when karen came home and saw what i had done she freaked out. i truly loved karen just like i loved holly but she was going to call the cops on me and I couldn't let my pizza hut mission be compromised by her. they were only my first two victims. i went on to sacrifice many more in the name of pizza perfection before i got caught. Now i am sitting here on death row, my execution is only hours away. Do you want to guess what I'll choose as my last meal?