One cold morning,
With a lot of chill.
Digestive system pressure,
Was going for a kill!
I entered a toilet,
Glued myself to the seat.
Showered two scud-missiles,
By no means a great feat.
On the way,
I did fart.
In terms of toxic gases,
It played a big part.
But toilets are ventilated!
Architects do have a heart.
Then I used the Water-Jet,
Which terribly strikes you,
As hard as one can get.
After minutes of patience,
What one does get,
Is a cuter little buttock,
Which is smartly wet.
No need to blush,
When it is time to flush.
Missiles are through the funnel,
Meeting stronger ones in the Tunnel!