Once there was a little boy whose name was (Jon,
but for the purposes of this story, we’ll call him) John.
He was young, and he was confused,
and he did many a thing without knowing why.
This will become important later in the story.

I shouldn’t have to point this out,
but there it is, anyway.

He was toilet trained
and in school
and he’d even skipped Kindergarten
so he was somewhat sophisticated
– though maybe that socialization could have done him some good.

The bathrooms in the public school he went to
were not the best.
Urinating worked out fine
but the toilets had really low stall walls.
Privacy was not a thing,
even for a short kid like John
so John did what he could to keep his Number Twos
away from public school.

This was not a sustainable practice.
It did not last through First Grade
but John did not find comfort in sucking it up
and dropping trow and going where so many could see.
When it finally proved necessary
he found an alternate solution.

And when his father came
to pick him up
because little John had soiled himself,
Dad asked "Why didn’t you use the bathroom?"
John shook his head.
"Why didn’t you tell someone you had to go?"
his father further queried.
John gestured weakly. wondering how to explain
not sure if he understood enough
about his embarrassment
in the face of being seen on the shitter.
Better to be taken out of school.

They trudged home shedding material
with every step.

Things would continue for the boy
with mortification and manure
going hand in hand
or hand and butt
or something else entirely
for years to come.