The Mastercrap

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PoopReport of the Year Awardl 100+ pointsm 1+ points - Newb
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I'm 6-foot-1 and 200 pounds and when I take a shit I like to shit like a man. I'm also
a gourmet chef and recently I've been experimenting in my kitchen at home with cacao
nibs, the roasted seeds of the plant that makes chocolate.

In their raw form, the cacao nibs were prized by Inca kings and Mexican merchants as
they were believed to give great romantic endurance, but in my home they seem to have
the primary effect of binding my bung, preventing me from feeling like a king when I
perch on the throne.

After a few days of poop-stopping trauma, I started to feel the horrible sensation
of extra weight in my midsection. When I reached up to grab frying pans off the rack,
my back felt tight; when I bent down to retrieve roast meats from the oven, it seemed
like there was a solid belt constraining my midsection. All my constitutionals led to
torment -- wimpy little bunny turds that did nothing to relieve the growing pressure.

When my gut gets grim, I resort to the two-pronged standby of caffeine and nicotine
-- a new-age folk remedy that always has me grunting out a gnarly grumper. This morning
I brewed a tall pot of dark-roast coffee in a French press (which gets all the fibrous
grit in there, good flavor with fresh heavy cream and also a good way to clean the
colon). I drank three cups black and then went out onto my deck to smoke a cigarette.
As the smoke wafted up around me I watched the sun rise over Boston waiting...
waiting... waiting... but no rich tremors from the iron girdle around my midsection.
Nothing happened at all.

I perused the Wall Street Journal, watched Paula Zahn on CNN (definitely a naked
shitter, if you ask me) and drank a little more coffee. My hands started to shake a
bit, but nothing seemed to be breaking free from the tight-packed bituminous turning
into diamonds deep inside me.

Anytime after I summon the Mastercrap, I know I'm taking a risk when I leave my
house. I clung to the couch, afraid to walk to the corner store to buy more cigarettes
... but still, nothing happened. It was hours later, when my friend Tom asked me to go
shopping for a grill with him and we were almost exactly between my home and Home
Depot, that the earth moved inside me.

God, it hurt. It hurt so bad I thought I was going to scream, so I told Tom to pull
over at a Mobil gas station in a gritty part of Medford, a Boston suburb. The Indian
guy behind the counter told me that the men's room was out of order, but when I pleaded
with him, he gave me the key to the ladies' room.

With the contractions happening faster in my colon, I half-shuffled, half-sprinted
to the bathroom and turned the key. I would have perched on top of a minefield if I had
to -- it hurt that bad.

It probably was the filthiest bathroom I've ever seen, but I just squatted down to
let loose. I knew I had to spread my legs wide to let out the Master, so I stepped out
of one leg of my khakis, even though the cuffs dragged in the filthy water on the grimy
tiles. And then, with a grumble and a roar, the Master arrived.

The Mastercrap is like a classic American fruit pie: first the foundation of hard
logs comes out -- the big tootsie rolls that break and bend when they hit the bowl (I
think of this as the crust). Next comes the filling, those good squeegee turdlets about
2-3 inches long that spiral around and pack on some good height to the mound. Finally
the liquid spurts of unformed stool tops off the man pie, a perverse rendering of
chocolate creme.

The thing is, this process takes me some time. The logs come on strong, but then
there's a pause while the turdlets get started, and I might need as many as eight to
ten minutes before I can finish the job. I knew I was running a risk taking that kind
of time in a busy public bathroom, but I didn't want to deny the Master. Who would?

First thing I noticed was that, on stage two, the turdlets hurt almost as bad as
sesame poo -- I thought I was being scraped with a scalpel when they started coming
out. This may be why the Incas were so easily conquered by the Spanish. And when the
creamy topping came out, it brought a wave of noxious gas that would have stopped a mob
of thousands of protesters in their tracks and reduced them to tears. In between the
topping spurts, I let loose a fusillade of popfarts that echoed off the hard tile
walls. The Mastercrap is a consuming process, I'll tell you.

It was only when I was lightheaded from the popfarts and bleeding from the ass from
the cacao bits that I realized: there was no toilet paper. I looked for paper towels
and saw: a hot-air blower. I looked for rolled-up newsprint or anything to dab the
liquid film off my achy bung and saw: nothing. So I sacrificed not one, but both brand
new Thor-Lo socks (we're talking $8.00 a pair!!!).

When I stumbled out into the sunlight with the wet cuffs of khakis brushing against
my bare ankles, there was a woman at the door, a big-haired suburbanite in a tube top
and dangling earrings. "That didn't sound like a woman in there,"she told me.

"Nope," I told her, trying not to smile. It was one of the proudest moments of my
life.

-- Mastercrapper

Like Mastercrapper? He's featured in The Journal of Ass Production!

30 Comments on "The Mastercrap"

Klaus_Kinski's picture

This is what classic poopreport is about; well crafted submissions that read more like a great short story as opposed to an anecdote. Mastercrapper, I grew up in Massachusetts and am proud a poopreporter of your calibur came from such a place. I weep with pride.

Thunder From Down Under's picture
m 1+ points - Newb

Bravo!

Jen's picture

HOLY SHIT!!

doniker's picture
j 1000+ points

Their needs to be a new section on this site that contains only great, creative, well written classic stories like this.

This story is 100 times better than any of the drivel I have contributed.

Death Goat's picture

That is an absolutely brilliant piece of writing.

Trashcanman's picture
l 100+ points

well mastercraper, welcome to poopreport. I see that you have already scored points with 2

Skiddy Poo's picture
m 1+ points - Newb

Your words filled my head with vivid images. At one point I feared I was squeezing along with the story. I did what I rarely do -- I read it twice because it was so funny. Mastercrapper is a master of words. Looking forward to the next.

Mad Crapper's picture

Words cannot express how inspiring that was. I am leaving my desk to work on my technique right this minute. Bravo, good man. Bravo.

mastercrapper wannabe's picture

behold...u released the Master...

Mr.Hanky's picture

Well done!

shithead # 2's picture

hah! thats great.

The Green Pooper's picture

Wow, you are a regular Walt Shitman! Or should I say irregular...

michael's picture

i'm on my knees bowing to the master.....

BUZZY's picture

Cool story,mastercrapper!I myself every now and then do dumps like that-i do mine in 3 parts-1st, a nice long fart and then some really long snakes of poop exit my anus and then a break and some more gas and some softer stuf flies out along with some more farts and then another break and then some more cramps and a small fart followed by real soft stuf that comes out so fast it sometimes burns my asshole ending with a lot of gas and i'm in heaven with relief-don't those dumps just feel the best!Good story that I can definitly relate to!

blondebuttergrl's picture

what is wrong with you people? are you ill in some mentall way? you are all disgusting freaks! you people have no life so you need t get one!!!!!!!! FREAKS!!!!

bob butthole's picture

I HATE PEOPLE WOH LEAVE COMMENTS THAT THEY H ATE THE SITE. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE. JUST GET OFF IT AND SHUT UP. oh and REALLY GREAT STORY MASTERCRAPPER.

Pooperscooper's picture

Religious experience!!!

Mastercrapper, I am with you in spirit. First--I love chocolate too, and after reading your words of witness, I now see why I get constipated so damned often--its the chocolate. In my case, I like to make hot chocolate using unsweetened Callebraut, to which I add a trace of sugar and some instant coffee, with milk. I'm so bad, I'll even nibble the unsweetened stuff (Callebraut is not bitter--even when unsweetened--not like Baker's, which is crap by comparison).

And your description of constipation is identical to what happens to me--its like having a boulder in my gut. More often than I care to admit, I'll give up and use laxatives--a teaspoon of cascara sagrada. Its a bitter herb and so damn powerful I privately call it 'Drano'.

Coffee helps but its possible to develop a tolerance for it. Massaging your gut really helps, as does a walk around the block, first thing in the morning.

Robert's picture

Not only a great story, but excellent writing! "Grunting out a gnarly grumper..."

It takes a real man to improvise when no toilet paper in sight. Once in Oaxaca, Mexico, I took a huge diarrhea in a restroom, only to realise the toilet paper was gone. I was going to be late to my class at an institute already. THis is one time I was thankful for diarrhea, because I decided to rip up the toilet paper roll and use it.

JulesRules's picture

"but I didn't want to deny the Master. Who would?"

oh man, i'm getting all teary eyed. i'm gonna have to go master card on this one cuz it was priceless!

pennyfucker's picture

that was the only story that made me smile

Do You Have  Job?'s picture

Hi,

Maybe you should get a job, instead of waiting at home anticipating a "shit"...wow, what a life you must have; Friday night spent sitting on the couch contemplating the color and texture of your faeces.

doniker's picture
j 1000+ points

This is my vote for 2002 story of the year.

Clyde's picture
m 1+ points - Newb

I call you Brother.

brook's picture

poop on me!!!!!

Slim Jim Junkie's picture

spoken like a true champion.

Edsel's picture

CRAP!!!! SHIT!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!! FUCKING SHITTY ASSHOLISH AWESOME!!!!

alyssia clarkson's picture

like oh my god! i found this website by accident (my brother goes on it) an its strangely addictive....

p.s dont tell my friends!

The Shit Volcano's picture
Comment Quality Moderatorh 3000+ points

Mastercrapper, where did you go?

I found Jesus! He was behind the sofa the whole time!

Rat Droppings's picture
l 100+ points

"The Mastercrap is a consuming process, I'll tell you." Evidently so.

_______
"Rectum hell, killed em' both." Author Unknown

"Rectum hell, killed em' both." Author Unknown

DungDaddy's picture
Comment Quality Moderatorj 1000+ points

So I want to know how he prepares the cocao nips - the first time, I mean.

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