Intellectual Bathroom Graffiti

If bathroom graffiti were written in such a way that it was “intellectual” you might see stuff like this…

Cindy Lou Edleman Performs Quality Sexual Favors.

Your Mother and Father Are of the Same Genetic Background.

Mexicans Smell Vaguely of Jalapenos.

Last Night You Enjoyed Carnal Pleasures With Your Sister.

Your Intelligence Quota is Dubious at Best.

For a Moderate Fee I Believe Your Mother Would Fellate Me.

You Have Had Intimate Relations With a Person of African Descent and You Shall Never Know the Love of a Caucasian Again.

You Look Upon Your Dog With Lust.

Methinks You Have the Odor of Fecal Matter Upon You.

I Partook in Intercourse with Your Sister’s Derriere.

The Acne on Your Face Spreads Throughout Your Nether Regions.

The People of France Know Not the Joys of Deodorant.

A Hamster is Superior in Intelligence to Your Mother.

For An Evening of Sordid Delights Involving Both Sadism and Masochism, Please Ring Mary at 212.555.5555.

Ryan Beaugarde is Inadequate in the Ways of Oral Enjoyment.

The Heavy Metal Rock Band Entitled Motley Crue is Quite First-Rate.

Your Sexually Promiscuous Mother Can Be Found in the Phone Book Under “Whore.”

Homosexuals Are Men Who Have Intercourse With Other Men. If You Participate in Such Activities You Are A Homosexual.

Your Father’s Proclivities Lead Him to Engage in Relations with Livestock.

President Bush is Missing a Chromosome.

The Toilet Upon Which You Currently Sit is Sprayed with a Mixture of Vomit, Feces and Urine.

 

Mitosis Story

I’m a chromosome. I’m colored blue. I give the characteristic “eating glue.” I was separated from my sister at birth, and I will never see her again. We separated during Mitosis. We were replicated from the same chromosome long before anyone could remember, and when we were born off each other, we were pulled apart by spindles, the walls closing in between us.

After the separation, the room I was in, grew bigger and bigger, more and more little things flying around, called DNA replicated as well. They were going all around, and eventually, I grew another sister chromatin. Would I be separated from another sister of mine? Yeah…

After a short rest, the other chromosomes and I were tossed toward the middle of the room, me and my new sister that grew on me were separated, and the room got bigger and bigger, pulling us away from each other again.

“Would I be stuck in this never-ending chain of events?” I asked myself. That’s when the end came, and I DIED