I’ve hired an official poop inspector who makes sure I’m clean. He uses a poop knife as one of his tools, along with different probes, plugs, and beads. He likes to go in deep to make sure I’m clean.

When we use a public restroom, it can get a little crowded in the stall, so I try to use the handicap bathroom. I consider myself handicap anyways.

Unfortunately, I have been discriminated against and called derogatory names by others, such as creep, pervert, pedophile, and others which are too disgusting to be put in print. It may be because my inspector is height challenged and looks young for his age. Also, I like to dress him as if he was my son.

I’ve even had the police called on me, but my inspector makes sure he always carrys his certified poop inspector license with him.

I found my inspector on Craigslist and he really loves his job so much, he even likes to inspect me when I’m not doing the deed, which is fine with me, I guess.

The funniest thing that happened to me was yesterday when he called in sick. On that particular day I decided to go to McDonald’s and my stomach started to hurt so badly, I ran into the bathroom.

After doing my business I looked in the bowl and I was surprised to see one of his plugs that must had slipped into my nether regions. I fished it out and this morning I could barely hold back my laughter when I told him and showed him the tool as proof. His reaction was priceless and we both laughed for what seemed like hours.

This is a story that I hope to one day share with my children and grandchildren. That’s on hold right now, since I’m saving myself for the girl (woman), that will love a nice guy like me. Any takes?