We were building a custom home for a very picky home owner. The house was large and commanded a nice view overlooking the huge, man-made lake in their backyard. My IBS was at it again, but luckily we had walls in the house, doors, and even toilets. The only problem was that we didn't have running water yet. With that being said, of course the port-a-potty was packed full and unbearable to smell.
I was scrambling to find a solution to where to poop, and I had to act fast. I ran into the bathroom, even though I knew the water wasn't running. I figured I could pinch off a loaf with the privacy and feeling of a real bathroom, even though the doors had no doorknobs, and the homeowners could have been back to check out our process since their last visit. I had to pull a MacGyver and fast, so I finagled a makeshift toilet from a five-gallon bucket, a plastic grocery bag, and a bowl-shaped light fixture that was going to be installed on the front porch. With these newly-acquired accessories, I erected a toilet in the guest bathroom in the hall. It was pitch black in there, but the door had no knobs, so it let in little light to the walk-in shower that I made into my temporary stall.
While in location I placed the bucket on the floor and wrapped the inside of the five-gallon bucket with the plastic grocery bag, like it was a mini garbage can. I did this because number two usually is accompanied with number one, and I didn’t want either substance to be all over the bucket when I could use it later for something work-related. The bowl-shaped light fixture was in there, too. Due to my panic, I don’t remember why I’d brought it. I did manage to remember I’d need to wipe, so I grabbed some paper towels out of the trailer to aid in my problem.
Once I was comfortable with my make-shift toilet, I sat on the bucket and unleashed explosive and appalling stomach sewage into the bucket, peeing all over the inside of the bucket around the plastic bag. The bucket was so uncomfortable that I resorted to squatting rather than to sit on that thin bucket rim. You would be surprised how hot it got in that non air-conditioned Florida home. Sweat was dripping from every point on my body as I suspiciously listened to every possible noise that could have been an intruder to see my shame.
When I was done wiping up the mess and tying off the bag, I discovered a new problem that had arisen; what was I going to do with this plastic bag full of crap and shitty paper towels with a yellow fluid resting in the bag’s corners? I was out of ideas, and the homeowners could have been back any minute. Anywhere I could have put it was left to be discovered with an embarrassing ending. The dumpster was an option, but I frequented that thing so often for spare scraps that I was afraid I would come across its smell or presence soon enough. There was only one option: the lake.
I imagined chucking it into the lake, only to have it re-surface and be discovered. If I was going to get this shit-bird to sleep with the fishes I had to do it like a gangster would. I shoved a large piece of concrete rock in the bag, tied it up, and chucked it into the depths of the lake to be discovered by our ancestors. May we never speak of it again.