It would seem an inordinately large number of words that evoke disquieting, distasteful and even disgusting images begin with the letter P. Consider the following:
To those who knew him, Pete was a parasite, a loser and, outwardly at least, a bit of a poof; to the authorities, who perhaps knew him best of all, a pervert and a pedophile. Hideously attired on this day in plaid pants and paisley tie, Pete decided whilst “shopping” at the local mall to visit the restroom for a quick pee. Standing at the urinal he discovered that, having relaxed his sphincter, a poop was likely in the offing. He chose the nearest stall, pulled down his golf slacks and plopped down upon the seat. As he waited for the evacuatory event, he noticed a series of small papules leading up his left thigh. He visually followed their trail, which led to a rather large, festering pustule, out from which sprung a thick, curled hair. He grabbed the hair between thumb and forefinger and gave a quick tug; a stream of yellow-green pus shot out and peppered the stall door. A complete pansy, Pete became immediately and overwhelmingly nautious and promptly puked all over the floor. He choked on the acidic remnants of breakfast, which caused him to cough up a huge gob of phlegm; he spat it out onto the throw-up laden tiles.
Pete stood, pulled and buckled, kicked open the stall door and went to the sinks. While he stared into the mirrors at his pockmarked and pimpled face, Pete ran his right pinky finger under the faucet, used it to massage the polyps in both nostrils, then turned and walked out the door.
See? P is for gross.