As you might remember from
my previous story, I work for a large company in a large building, one that has small but very clean bathrooms. This story took place about two years ago, shortly after winning the battle of the Shameful.
I was participating in my usual college summer ritual of working full-time during the summer as an electrical engineering intern. I did this in order to both help pay my huge college tuition tab and still afford to feed myself. So, with this large amount of time on the job, I naturally had to spend some time in the company bathroom. These bathrooms were very clean but not very spacious. The building architects must have designed the bathrooms to fit as many stalls as possible, because these stalls were quite narrow. I would estimate they were about three and a half feet wide. When I sat on my workplace shit throne, I barely had elbow room, and I had a hard time twisting my torso to obtain the TP. On top of this, these stalls insured you became best buddies with your stall neighbor. From the floor to the bottom of the stall divider, there was probably a two foot open space; that’s quite a bit of viewing room. You could see a good deal of your neighbor’s leg with that much clearance.
Anyway, this story scares me to this day. I have been mentally scarred ever since this horrific event took place, but I still find some way to laugh about it.
One fine day, I had the bathroom to myself – remember, I’m a Shameful Shitter - and was able to pinch a loaf without any attackers entering. I was just about to start to wipe when someone walked in. I may be shameful, but I can handle wiping with others around, which is good; because for some reason the intruder sat right next to me to begin his business.
I ripped off about four squares of TP, because it felt like a very unclean poo, and wiped the dirt star. Now, this might just be me, but I like to wipe and look at it. Is that strange? I lifted up the poo-encrusted TP to view my own ass production, and this is where things got ugly. I may have been playing too much baseball that summer and developed exceptionally strong wrists, because when I turned my wrist to view the poo, a small chuck of it whipped off the TP and landed about two inches inside my neighbor’s stall. Holy fuck, what the hell, good God, and sweet Mother Mary... what had I done?
My mind, heart, and soul stopped at this point - I had just flung poo into my neighbor’s stall. Who does that? I had committed a mortal sin; and if I was in Texas I would have likely received the death penalty. The only other situation that could be related to this in terms of sheer mortification would be if your significant other walked in on you committing sex acts with a goat.
The bathroom was ensconced in dead silence as the poop kernel stared ominously at both of us. My heart went out to the poor man who was just violated by my poo pitch. I would have to say I threw a curve-poo-ball judging by the amount of break it had. At least it hit the strike zone.
I needed to leave immediately, so I hastily wiped and left without washing my hands, leaving my poo forlorn and abandoned on the floor. What a horrible experience for all three of us.
