There is nothing worse than being in the middle of nowhere, rescuing people trapped in an overturned car, and then getting the sudden urge to pinch a loaf.
Tim had been at the firehouse earlier that day when the urge to take a constitutional had first crossed his mind. He was contemplating which shitter to use when the hotline rang. It was headquarters, wanting to know if there was crew available to transfer an engine. A nearby community had a working fire which left no coverage should something else happen.
Now at that point, Tim was not in any imminent distress. He took the transfer with the intent of polluting Station 15's bathroom once they arrived. The only problem was, they never made it. On the way, they caught a rescue box with overturned cars, a fuel leak, bodies and gore everywhere.
They were on that call for about a half-hour when Tim's urge to defecate returned. There was no ignoring it this time. He looked around to see if any restaurants or gas stations were nearby. Nothing. One side had a wooded area and the other had two houses. He felt his belly rumble and his eyes teared up. He knew he had to make a quick decision. This was going to be a destructive shit.
Now, Tim is a big firefighter. Easily over 340 pounds. He debated on making a dash for the woods and attempting an Alfresco Dump, but he knew this wasn't going to be a quick or simple shit. He finally elected to approach the group of people standing in the front yard of one of the houses.
Apparently the occupants of the house had been having a party. After seeing the accident, they had spilled out onto the lawn to watch the excitement. Tim approached the owner and pleaded to use his bathroom. The owner glanced down at Tim's turnout gear, figured he was in a dilemma, and acquiesced. Breathing a sigh of relief, Tim made a beeline for the throne.
Tim's assumptions had been correct. It turned out to be a massive, foul-smelling poop. So bad, in fact, that he had to stand up and open the windows. He turned around and flushed. The water rose precipitously to the edge of the bowl. Oh no! A log jam that wouldn't go down!
He was afraid to flush again, knowing the contents would overflow into the kind stranger's house. He frantically pulled open the sink and closet doors to search for a plunger. There was none. He briefly contemplated climbing out the window, but realized this wouldn't do much for the fire department's reputation. Head down, he did the walk of shame through the house and ‘fessed up to the owner.
The owner ended up being a really cool guy and told Tim not to worry about it. Then again, he hadn't yet seen the mess that Tim had left behind. Mortified, Tim ran from the premises and swore to never delay the call of nature again.
