Editor's note: we don't condone this.
I used to repossess cars. As a repo man, I worked some crazy hours -- sometimes I would work days straight without sleep. I had a rather crazy girlfriend at the time -- a real grown-up goth, totally warped. She rode with me on repos and would help me get cars back to the yard. We drove all over the state together.
One day she and I were out stealing cars quite successfully and not wanting to stop such a good run. But finally, around six AM, we were both totally exhausted and too far from home to make it. So we stashed our cars in the local police station lot and stopped at a hotel to catch a little sleep.
I had a nice spot of arguing with the desk clerk over the check-out time. They wanted me to check out promptly by ten AM or they'd charge me for two days. Now by this point, it would mean about three hours of sleep by the time we got settled into the room (it was closing on seven AM by then). I was infuriated at the idea of paying for a full night for three hours' of sleep. I didn't have a choice, though, so we took it and crashed out.
We couldn't have been asleep for more than a half-hour when the construction started. Hammering, sawing, buzz-sawing, yelling, and all the things that you generally can't sleep through. Something the desk clerk didn't mention: they were doing construction on the hotel. We called the desk, and were told, basically, that it sucked to be us.
Before, I was angry. Now I was fairly pissed off. We tried to sleep, simply because we were exhausted, and even caught brief snatches of snooze-time.
Then the fire alarm went off.
We both shot out of bed and ran out of the door, looking around frantically for signs of a fire. We called the desk again and were told the construction workers set off the fire alarm on accident.
Now we couldn't fall back asleep; we tried, but we couldn't. Construction was going full-swing and we were both wide-awake. We decided to just get dressed and leave.
Before, I was angry. Then I was pissed off. Now... I was in a very shitty mood.
In the midst of us bitching about this horrible experience to each other, I felt the stirrings of a previous meal about to be unmade. It stopped me cold in my string of complaints, as a plan begin to form. An evil grin took over my frown and my ass sighed in contented agreement. I turned with a sweet vicious smile to my girlfriend and said, "I'm going to take a massive crap on the bed."
She laughed at the thought of it, but stopped when she saw I was serious. She knew I was serious because I said, "I'm serious. I have to take a dump. Bad."
Her reply -- bless her wicked lil' heart -- was, "DO IT!" More evil laughter followed.
I had second thoughts, though, and spent the next few minutes listening to her trying to convince me to crap right in the center of the bed. Finally, I said a final "No" and headed to the toilet.
It was her sigh of disappointment that stopped me. As I saw the little plastic drinking cups the hotel had by the sink, I grinned again... big and evil.
A few minutes of grunting later, I came back out of the john and asked my girlfriend if she was thirsty. For in my hand was a cup, and in the cup was a nice, big, firm turd. It was large enough that it stood in the cup, nearly touching both sides, and sticking waaaay out the top. It leaned a little over the side, like a massive tree grown too tall. And it was quickly streaming up the clear plastic cup. It was a solid and impressive creation.
My little surprise had my girlfriend laughing with evil glee as we quickly discussed where to deposit the dookie.
Finally, I said, "Under the bed!"
Now, she was a tiny little girl, and quite unable to lift the bed. I certainly couldn't do it with one hand. So I handed her the cup, which, to her everlasting credit, she took without hesitation.
I lifted the bed and she chucked it under there, cup and all. We stayed in the room laughing at the thought of the next couple staying in there and having a fight over who farted.
Finally we went down to check out. Not being one to let a sleeping log lie, I decided to complain about the terrible stay we had.
"That was the crappiest stay I've ever had!" I shouted at the clerk, while my girlfriend quietly giggled behind her hand.
"I've had bad hotel stays, but this one really stunk!"
"All I wanted to do was turd in for a few hours of sleep!"
My girlfriend joined in with remarks like, "Ya, that was really shitty!"
We were both keeping a straight face until I said, "And when that fire alarm went off, it scared the shit out of me!" At that point, the girlfriend had to run out of the lobby quickly, because she was bursting with suppressed laughter. Luckily I kept my straight face as I listened to the desk clerk apologize. He promised to have his manager call me.
A few days later, I was sitting in my house when the phone ran. A very angry-sounding manager of the hotel called to tell me that under no circumstances would I be getting a refund on my hotel stay. She didn't mention anything else, but there was a moment of silence as I could hear the unspoken question, wanting confirmation on my lack of constipation. Apparently she suspected, but she wasn't sure.
"Fair enough," I said, and hung up the phone.
I've always wondered. Did they really find that little surprise? Or is there still a small pile of grey ashes under a bed in that hotel room? A piece of me, left behind.
