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 HoodwinkedPosted 09.14.2004 by Krazycritic (31)
Back in 1992, I took a job as a surveyor in Northern Ontario. It was a great summer. Since we were outdoor workers, I took many a great shit in locations ranging from a Port-a-Potty to using a birch tree as my backrest. Because we often ate on the go and were usually on the road, I frequently found myself gulping down plates of food-like substances that roadside greasy spoons claimed as edible. It was a grand summer of shit mountains.
But I was not prepared for the travails that winter held in store for me. I'd never imagined the horrible experience that awaited my unwinterized rectum: standing in snowshoes in a three-foot hole dug out of the snow, pulling my coveralls down around my ankles in -30 degree weather as nipple-protruding winds whistling around my arse. One day, while shooting some survey shots about five miles back on, a double chilidog lunch was causing havoc in my bowels. "Oh SHIT!" I thought to myself. I didn't want to get stuck out here without the comfort of a porcelain throne to properly rid myself of this upcoming quake. Problem was, it was an hour to quitting time and another forty minutes to the truck stop where I had ingested my bean and chili pepper loaded lunch. I was determined to hold off. After another thirty minutes of horrible bowelecular shaking and countless numbers of those ass-squeeze pippy farts that were gagging my partners, I could no longer stand the pain. I told them that I was taking a break. Regardless of this deep freeze weather, I had to relieve myself of this gutful of fecal stew before I ended up shitting myself. I quickly snowshoed to a small, secluded bush area about fifty yards away. My bowels were playing Beethoven's Fifth and I could barely keep my sphincter squeezed to stop it from blowing in my coveralls. Finally I had my coveralls, pants, longjohns, and underwear down around my knees; and no sooner had I leaned back against a big spruce tree than WHAPP-O! Wave after wave of vicious shit blasted from my tortured arse. After a wave, I would wipe quickly, put some cold snow on my bunger to ease the heat from the spice, and WHAPP-O again! Again and again, until, finally, my poor asshole -- which was all burned from the chili spice -- was just flexing open and shut over and over, waiting for nothing more than the odd puff of air from my empty belly. The smell was enough to gag a maggot. I looked behind me to see a huge load of fecal chili sauce sitting in the snow, steam rising from its disgusting presence. I wiped myself extensively, making sure to get the spray off my thighs and off my glutes. I used some snow on a paper towel for a quick wash, and got dressed. Happy and totally relieved, I left the dump behind and returned to my group. "Oh damn! That musta been one bad shit!" one of my partners exclaimed. "Yeah!" said the other. "You can smell it from here!" "Woof, man! You are soooooooo right!" I said, starting to laugh as I thought about that horrible crap. "Did you clean up enough, man?" Bill asked me. "Yaa," Tom said. "It still friggin' stinks!" I assured them I did, pointing to the area where I had squeezed out the vile slop, and even inviting them to come see it. I took two steps toward the bush, and then it hit me. "Ewww! You guys are right! It can't stink all the way over here!" When I turned back to talk to them, both of them were bent over, hands over their mouths, waving me away. Then I realized that half of that massive load of hot chili dog triple bean double onion with chili spice and peppers had landed in my F#@KING HOOD! And I was carrying the vile slop around with me! I screamed and ripped off my coveralls and began to puke when I saw the shit rolling around in my hood. Needless to say, I got cleaned up; but I sure learned a BIG lesson about shitting in the woods in winter that day. -- Krazykritik Post new comment
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