An Open Letter to the couple who shits in a pot just to live in park slope

Dear Marcella and Ryan Marshall,

I recently read in a Daily Mail On-Line article that the two of you have been shitting in a chamber pot instead of a toilet for the past three years.  According to the article, not having an actual toilet allows you to live in Park Slope studio apartment for only $300 a month.  Now, I don't consider myself "fussy" by any stretch of the imagination, but I still feel compelled to tell you that I think what you're doing is really, really terrifying.

Here's a little snippet of what you, Ryan, have said about the living arrangement:

"Let's just say it was summer when we moved in,' he recalls. 'We don't have or ideologically support air conditioning, so nights could get a little rough, especially when you don't know what to expect when you lift the lid... It's not necessarily for the squeamish."

And are you seriously crapping into a pot and then dumping it in the gutter, as the article says?  Because I'd like to know why I have to pick up my dog's turds while we're out on a walk, put the shit in a plastic baggie, tie the aforementioned baggie, and then go put it in a waste recepticle.  Why do I have to do all that for my dog, if you're just dumping your poo in the street?  Instead of dumping it in the gutter, couldn't you just crap in a bucket with a tight-fitting lid?  And then, when the bucket was full, you could seal it and put it out with the trash.  Actually, forget I suggested that.  That's pretty much repellent, as well.

You know, I've heard that rats like to eat poop, and the reason we're not supposed to just leave dog shit on the street is because it creates a rat problem.  Do you not care about whether or not Park Slope has a rat problem?  Because I think rats are disgusting.  Even more disgusting than pigeons.  And almost as disgusting as the two of you.

Hang on a second.  I need to call 3-1-1 to let them know that someone's dumping human excrement in the street. BRB.

Okay, back.

Anyway.  When I was a kid, there was a big water main break in my neighborhood, and we didn't have working toilets for like, a week.  Do you know what we did, Marcella?  Can you guess, Ryan?  We did not poop in the gutter.  Oh, no.  Our mom made us ride our bikes down to the gas station on the corner, where they had a working toilet.  Have you ever tried to ride a bike when you need to take a crap in the most urgent way?  Do you know how difficult that is?  There were times when I was practically "prairie-dogging" and I couldn't actually sit down on the seat of my Huffy Thunder Road, because I was worried about what might happen.  "Thunder Road," indeed.  But I rode my bike to the gas station anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Marshall.  I rode my goddamned fucking bike to the gas station to go to the toilet like an actual goddamned fucking civilized human being.  And I was only 8 years old!  I was 8 years old, and I knew not to shit in a pot and dump my turds in the street.  Didn't your parents teach you that you shouldn't just leave a steaming deuce on the curb?  Instead of holding it until you got to a toilet, did your parents just let you squat and evacuate wherever the hell you wanted?  Were you even toilet trained, to begin with?

FUCK!  What the hell is wrong with you!?!  Do you realize that reading that story pretty much ruined my Christmas?  How am I even supposed to look at a yule log without thinking about the fact that you take a dump in a pot and then throw it outside.  I think I might be scarred for life, and this time I really mean it.  How am I supposed to scrub the image of the two of you doing dookie blasts into a serving bowl without having electro-convulsive therapy?  How do I NOT mention this to my family when we're sitting around the tree opening presents?  Because I'm starting to think that if this is just normal behavior for you, that I'm going to need a constant reality check from just about everyone to make sure that it isn't ME who's lost my fucking mind.  Because I go to the toilet when I have to do a #2,and up until now, I thought that pretty much everyone else in Park Slope used a toilet, too.  But now that you put it in the newspaper that you put your scat in a dish next to your bed, I'm going to have to check with my friends to make sure that I haven't gone completely bananas.

Ryan.  Marcella.  I beg you.  Find an apartment with a fucking toilet.  Please.  Just crap in a toilet from now on.  It's not that hard to do.  You'll actually get used to it, over time.  And your studio apartment will smell much better, I'm sure.  So, please, for the love of all that is good and right in this world, get a toilet and use it.  And please, whatever you do, don't ever, ever procreate.

Very sincerely,

Thomas