Who's on Wordfeud?: Party Pooper

I started a random game with a guy that somehow kept going in spite of my constant rambling. Most people would have bailed on me, but not this guy. What you're about to read is a six day long saga.

Kevin: Do you smell your own farts?

Nothing. One day later.

Kevin: I like my farts.

Thirteen hours later.

Kevin: I just had a good fart. It was thick and hung in the air for a bit.

Seven and a half hours later. "John" continues to play silently.

Kevin: I just farted, and a little poo came out.

Kevin: It was a small nugget with hairs in it.

Kevin: I think I have diarrhea.

The next day. I'm still not getting anything.

Kevin: I made a big doodie today.

Seven hours later, I decide to step it up.

Kevin: I laid on my back and sprayed shit in my own mouth.

Still nothing! I begin to get colorful with my language. The next day.

Kevin: I'm making feces right now. It's warm and squishy as it slides betwixt my cheeks.

The next day.

Kevin: I'm pooping right now. It smells of sandalwood and vanilla.

I woke up at 4 AM the next day and decided to message my silent friend.

Kevin: I woke up to take an early morning evacuation. It flowed out of me like soft serve.

Later that afternoon.

Kevin: I've been spreading anus quiefs all around town today. I must have eaten something strange.

Kevin: I mean these are horribly rancid colon belches.

Kevin: A passerby dry heaved from my rectal fragrance.

Kevin: Man, you should see what just came out of me. It turned back at me and said hello.

Seven hours later, I try to bait him into replying.

Kevin: My nighttime manure leavings are very large. I would love to send you a photograph of it.

Kevin: It looks like Lincoln crossing the Delaware.

Even my historical inaccuracy didn't grab him. Early the next morning.

Kevin: There's nothing like first morn's dook. Know what I nean?

Later that afternoon.

Kevin: I just felt a peanut scrape past my hemorrhoid.

A few hours later, he plays QUARTS.

Kevin: Speaking of QUARTS, I just loosed about three quarts of liquid brownie in my porcelain depository.

A few hours later, John plays the final and winning word of our game. Finally, I am acknowledged.

John: Poop.

I stood in my home and applauded.

Kevin: Well played, sir. Well played.