Nobody move! Everyone here's a suspect. Put on another pot of coffee. It's gonna be a long night. Four turds, five suspects, so many, many nameless victims. The first poop was obviously Frank. Old and weak, he had an accident, that's why he was so intent on destroying it. There were many turds before this one, weren't there, Frank? This was just the first time you got caught, wasn't it? And then you went and did it again the next night? Or did you? Two poops in two nights? Tall order for such a short man. No. The second poop belonged to Charles. He wanted to get back at Frank, but due to his poor diet, couldn't produce a turd. So he called Mac, who jumped at the chance to see Frank humiliated one more time. But Charlie overlooked the fact that Dennis listens to Mac's phone calls and he heard every word. Dennis was jealous that Charlie had chosen Mac to help instead of him. He swore to have his revenge. That's why encouraged Mac to sleep while he stayed up. He was going to put the frame on Mac by pooping next to him. But he didn't realize that a futon slept on by the weight of three men would be off its axis and slope to the center. And like a small brown snail it crept to the middle between Charlie and Frank. Deandra! You wanted in on this poop war from the start. No, I didn't. The outcast? The slut? The bitch. The whore. The lonely, sad, slutty, bitchy whore. You sat on the sidelines while these four titans battled it out. You were jealous that a few pieces of poop got more attention than you. That's why when the lights went out, you unleashed some thunder of you own. Thunder of the chocolate variety. Oh, well, that would be fine and dandy if any of it were true. Can we wrap this up at some point? In due time, pretty face. In due time. Isn't it true you thought you'd been pooping the bed for months now? You chalked it up to your old plumbing and penchant for spicy foods. Morning after morning, you'd bury your poop after you rose to hide it from Charlie. But convinced that Charlie had discovered his dirty little secret, Frank pooped the bed again the next night as revenge, only a lot more came out than he expected. He had gone too far. I've gone too far. Due to the size and severity of the poop, Frank concluded that Charlie had been pooping the bed all along. And so he cleaned up the mess and wandered the streets, looking for someone who could replicate Charlie's small and malnourished turd. And that's where he came upon his old friend, Rickety Cricket. Get up! Known the world over for his ability to replicate any man's stool, Cricket came back and committed fecal forgery. Which leads us to the third turd. Dennis and Mac thought it'd be funny to put the frame on Frank and Charlie, and so they both pooped. But, as so often happens, the poop rolled together and two became one. A turd merger fused together by fear and hatred and hair. But on to the final poop! A poop that can be traced back to Dee! But not to her butt. The waitress, drunk out of her mind and furious that Dee had pushed her back into the arms of the bottle, pooped in Dee's purse while Dee's back was turned. And Dee carried it unknowingly until she arrived here and the lights went out and she was startled, knocking her purse to the floor, causing the turd to tumble where it stands before us, right now. So, as you can see, the mystery of who pooped the bed has been solved. And yes my friends, in a way, you're all guilty. I did it. - What? - I did 'em all. I did all the poops. - Really? - Yeah, I did everyone of them. I even did one, while she was rappin us, right here. - Dude! - Jesus! God! Why would you do that, dude? Because poop is funny. I guess poop is very funny. - Poop is funny. - He pooped on the floor. You know what, well-played my man! Well-played! I hate my life. Seriously dude, don't ever poop in our bed again.
