MAIN SECTIONS
MAIN SECTIONS
Stories About Poop Intellectual Crap Consumer Reports Fun with Feces Poop at the Office Techniques Travel Logs The Captain's Log Academic Poop Home  
RESOURCES The PoopReport Gift Pack Poop Culture: The Book The PoopReport Store The Skatole Shirt PoopReport FAQ Best Of PoopReport Press Room Advertise! PoopReport on Myspace PoopReport on Facebook NEWS AND ADVICE The BM News Wire Ask PoopReport Ask a Poodiatrist Eternal Debates FEATURES Special Reports Movie Poop Archive Toilet Paper Survey Pooetry Comics Poop Contests MOVEMENTS I Poop and I Vote!  Shameless Shitting Poop For Peace The Summer Stoolstice DISCUSSIONS Shit Of My Career Childbirth Poop Book Of The Shameless First Memory of Poop More... REPORT POOP Poop Forums PoopReport Chat Submit 
NavigationPoop Comics Our BuddiesLower left rotating ad most recent poll -- formattedPoop at the Movies |
 The Mad DashPosted 08.29.2005 by Darth Viper (21)
As people grow and mature, one thing stays the same: the ability to splatter the bowl with the best of them in nature's ever-loving prank. Yes, I am talking about the trots, the runs, the green apple splatters, the Hershey squirts, etc. -- whatever you call it, call it pure torture when it hits you all of a sudden.
This day was like any other day. Granted, our pre-planned tripped to an amusement park brightened it a bit; but as far as bowel expulsions are concerned, my butt was puckered tighter than a snake's jaw on a field mouse. As usual when I woke up that morning nature called me back home to the porcelain kingdom. I went. And then, relief. And comfort, knowing that the next bowel movement probably wouldn't be until the next day. Most mornings I can find some kind of solace in knowing that I'd already made my damage for the day. But when Mother Diarrhea comes knocking, she takes no prisoners. The day was great. We spent all day riding roller coasters, bumper cars, water rides, and more. What day at an amusement park isn't a blast? But when it comes to park food, you take your chances. What exactly do they put in the pizza there, anyway? It's like they dip it in grease and then lay it out in the sun to simmer. Granted, it doesn't taste bad -- but look out when you eat it. So I took my chances. I never even thought about it when I bought those two slices and one giant soda. I swallowed it practically whole in an attempt to get back to riding as soon as possible. But somewhere, in the midst of all the coasters and spinning, my colon was plotting its revenge. It hit me just as we were getting ready to leave. And like an idiot, I clenched my cheeks together and walked out to the car, swearing that I could hold it until we got to the restaurant where we were going to eat -- about half an hour away. Well, the pizza must have really pissed off my colon, because soon I was giving it my very best and still it felt like an iguana was making its way towards my ass; and it wasn't going to stay caged for long. I squirmed in my seat like a little kid, hoping, praying that I'd make it to the bathroom before my anus exploded and left the car with a new silky brown layer of poo. And for a half an hour on the interstate, I did just that. When we got to the restaurant, I heaved out of the car and ran inside like a football player running to score the winning touchdown. As I broke through the door and rounded the corner towards the nearest stall, I ran smack dab into this old man, knocking him completely over. And when I hit the floor, the iguana (my pizza from earlier) found its opening and shot out of my ass like the Road Runner, soiling my shorts and leaking down my leg like pudding over the rim of a glass bowl. The smell instantly hit the room. The old man that I tackled in the process immediately went from disgruntled to completely disgusted. After letting out an irritated curse, his face instantly lit up when he saw me lying there in a puddle of my own goo. And then he laughed his ass off at me. Ladies and gentleman, there are few things in life more degrading than having a sixty-year-old man laugh at you for shitting your pants. I could hear him howling all the way out the door. And I just sat there in my own greasy pile of shit for like twenty minutes trying to figure out how to not embarrass myself even further. As people came in and saw me there on the floor, soaked in diarrhea, they would slowly back out and muffled laughter would find its way back into the restaurant. I finally managed to coax my wife back into the bathroom; she brought me an extra pair of clothes from the car. I sadly balled up the dirty clothes and threw them away. -- Darth Viper Post new comment
|
Ad 1
Ad 2
Text Ads
Recent comments
Who's onlineThere are currently 0 users and 297 guests online.
Thong ad Highest Users
Browse content by author View some statistics Learn more about userpoints |
