Yet another thing about them to dread

What is it about hippie-poos that make them so hard to flush? My friends Jo and Chris went off on quite the inspired diatribe against this schmuck of a sublettor they fell victim to this summer (nobody needs to know his name is Sam.) The whole thing reminded me of this scene in 'PCU' by Jeremy Piven recounting his grating and scarring experiences whilst rooming with David Spade. The coup de grace was what Jo called 'a big hippie-poo, lovingly wrapped in toilet paper, left for someone to find in the toilet bowl' (not a direct quote, but rye was involved, so it's at my liberty, ok?) This sparked my remagination to unleash a devastatingly powerful and moving montage of all the hippie-poos I'd ever witnessed before, only then realizing that I'd senselessly overlooked the association that each of these floaters had been generated by a dirt-bag hippie. HAHA, right? Well, I am at Pi, and was imbued with the 'urge', and went to wait by the bathroom door. A hippie came out, and the toilet water was swirling, and there was a cheeky nug bobbing about. So I flushed again. No go. Now, I have many toilet taboos, as I'm sure is common, and one is the inability to poo into a toilet with poo occupying it already. I'd never done it before, but this little turdpedo was being real stubborn, matched only by the 'urge' (to emerge) and the Pi toilet does not have the LPF capacity to try coating it with TP to help drag it away. So I caved, and using my patented splashback-proofing method (3 easy installments of $9.99 or one month's supply of Goji berries and this ancient technique will be yours) pooped into another man's poo-bowl. Wiped. Flushed. Washed my hands. And then peeped back into the stall, just to make sure... My poo was gone. The hippie's was still there. Reminds me of the Primal Scream's XTRMNTR opener: KILL ALL HIPPIES.