I’ve never liked pooping until the last second, until right before it was about to run out and down my leg; and until last week, it never had.
The mishap started as I was about to drive to work in my '67 corvette. Usually, before I go to work, I leave a monster-big, brown, lumpy piece of art in my home porcelain. It can take up to an hour to birth. On that morning, though, for some reason, I couldn't push it out.
“Forget it,” I said, and I just left.
I arrived at work as normal and sat down in front of my desk--me and my monster-big, brown, lumpy piece of art, laying in wait.
It was around 2:30 when I felt a familiar, massive entity forming between my butt cheeks. Normally, when this happens, I will stand up and scoot to the Men’s Room before that entity arrives. Normally.
I got up and ran straight to the bathroom; but unlike the thousands of times I’d successfully done this before, I miscalculated my abilities; I didn't make it. Before I entered the bathroom, shit literally shot down my leg.
When I got into the stall, I pulled down my pants to find poop splattered throughout their entirety, my legs completely covered. But it seems my ass wasn't finished yet, so I sat back down, and before my buns hit the toilet seat, more shit came spraying out of my anus. If you've ever sprayed a garden hose against the pavement on its highest pressure level, then you can understand what happened as my ass came closer and closer to the toilet seat; the effect was instantaneous. Worse than the amount was the color--it was green.
I haven’t mentioned yet that I also started to smell something terrible: me. I smelled fetid, like I’d been dunked in a vat of dog poop mixed with rotten sushi.
Thankfully, Round Two was over, and I was not looking forward to Round Three. And something told me there was most certainly going to be a Round Three.
I sat in that stall for thirty minutes. I sat there until my boss came in and knocked on the door. He also had to go to the bathroom, and, unfortunately for me, there was only one stall. And I was in it.
There was no way that I could have cleaned up the colossal mess, because at the time green poop was not only coating my entire lower half, it had also managed to fly up quite an impressive distance along the back wall. There was no way out of this.
As soon as I finished Round Three, all I could do was swipe at the walls and the inside of my pants with toilet paper. Outside of the stall there was only silence—silence and two shoes belonging to a man I’d have to walk by while I was coated in shit.
Defeated, I unlocked the door and exited the stall; and as I headed for the door, I wincingly glanced back to look at my boss.
He stood in the doorway to the stall, making neither motion nor noise.
Then, slowly, the stall door swung in an attempt to close, finally resting on his right hip. He never moved.
Instead, he continued to stare forward, his face frozen in amazement and revulsion, unable to look away from what my elephant butt cheeks had brought forth into this dimension. Later that day, he fired me.
Later that week, my girlfriend left me.
The only one who hasn’t left me is that smelly, green shit.
