If Elvis Aron Presley was anything, he was “regular” and this Christmas was no different. In fact, he was so regular this morning; he had already flushed twice. The bathroom fan was industrial as all get out, and it was doing its job loudly and proficiently. Instead of the stench of poop and urine, it was replaced by myrrh and frankincense. Elvis moaned as a turd snaked out of his orifice obscured by pearly white porcelain. There was a plop, water splashed on his unbeknownst to him, growing white ass cheeks. No one in his posse dared to tell ‘E’ that he was gaining weight. For good measure, Elvis flushed again. He laughed out loud thinking about his honor bound duty.