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Six Shooter

Posted 02.24.2003 by Mastercrapper (159)
On the way to take my girlfriend to the airport this morning, she wanted to stop by Starbucks. I'm more of a Dunkin Donuts kind of guy (in pretty much every way), but she's slowly yuppifying me into buying Starbucks coffee. I kind of like espresso drinks, anyway. In culinary school I developed an affection for espresso -- man, every restaurant, cafe and bar in any town in continental Europe can make a coffee that kicks the ass of anything Starbucks produces -- so I ordered an Americano instead of regular coffee. The chick at the bar put in six shots instead of four. "Ooops," she said. "You want me to make you another one?" I would have, but my girlfriend kept looking at her watch. Her flight wasn't due to leave for about three hours, but at Logan airport, you never know what's going to happen, so she didn't want to delay. "No," I said, "I'll just take it as is."

If you love coffee (and I love coffee, just like I love unsweetened chocolate, dark ales, pomegranate seeds and lemon zest and sour hard candies and Dave's Insanity Sauce and unfiltered cigarettes and other things that make the average person wince and gag) you probably know that six shots of dark, zesty espresso in a little bit of water is an orgasm for your taste buds. It sticks to your tongue like roofing tar and your palate fills with its delicious aroma of silt and mud, and that's a good thing. If you don't like coffee, well, I can't help you. See somebody about that.

The expressway was backed up with dopey Masshole morons and college kids trying to get downtown, and it was a shitty rainy day, so we spent about forty-five minutes in traffic; long enough to get through all 20 ounces of my dense and oily morning beverage. We said goodbye at the curb -- a long stinky coffee breath kiss from me and gross Chapstick smeared all over our lips from her -- and then the cops chased me away.

September 11th has really fucked up air travel. In the old days, I could have parked and walked her all the way to the gate area to sit with her and tell her, "I told you we were leaving too early for the airport." But these days, you can't even say goodbye without some cop freaking out that you might have a bomb under your coat and shooing you off. I don't know why they're thinking some beefy white guy in a pickup truck might be a terrorist -- if I look like a risk for anything, it's the possibility that I might scream "Go Patriots," or to try to arm wrestle somebody, or ask passengers to pull my finger -- but then again, I have seen the gate security guys shaking down blonde mid-western moms traveling their with four tow-headed kids, so I guess anybody could be a terrorist these days.

So I got right back in my truck and right back on the road and headed right back up towards Cambridge. I did not go to the gate. I did not pass "Go." I did not collect $200. And I did not stop for the bathroom. This would turn out to be an unfortunate choice.

As I got out of the Sumner Tunnel, my heart skipped a beat. I've heard the phrase a thousand times, but I didn't know what it felt like until this morning. Literally out of nowhere, my ticker starting pounding away like a death-metal band; my palms glossed up with sweat, and my eyelids started twitching. Every involuntary muscle in my body came alive. What the hell?

I figured it was the combination of my hangover and dehydration from the tequila shots at the Tex-Mex place last night, and my empty stomach and my elephant-sized coffee drink this morning. But as my heart didn't slow down, I started to wig out a little bit -- the feeling I got one time in college when I smoked some dope that was laced with something and my face went suddenly numb -- and all of a sudden my sphincter joined the parade of involuntary body motions, and I started farting out liquid firebombs, hot, stingy wind biscuits thick with aerated poo goo.

No question I stained my trou on the first salvo. I could feel a little sweaty grit lining my crack as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I turned onto Storrow Drive in a panic, looking for a place to stop. The flow of traffic pushed me up the river towards Harvard Square -- a total traffic nightmare on a Saturday, and frankly the last place I should have gone, since there's always a line for the public bathrooms there. (As a side note: I always shit in the Harvard chapel, downstairs -- if you're here as a tourist, stop in. Great little one-seater bathroom with a locking door, and you can often hear organ music upstairs.)

I kept farting out these wet farts and twitching and shaking. My dog was on the passenger seat, cocking her ears at me as if to say, "What's wrong with you, dude?" I didn't know -- I was having some kind of mind and bowel meltdown. My brain simply was not functioning it its traditional, orderly manner. My ears were pounding with my pulse and my breath was coming in short and jagged fits, and I started to wonder if somehow -- at age 30 -- I was having a heart attack. And it seemed like I just kept farting with greater and greater intensity.

As I turned right onto JFK Drive towards home, I was almost crying. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. Thoughts of death and the afterlife filled my brain. My stomach started turning, twisting, horribly convulsing along with everything else in my body. Was I about to bite it? Would I shit in my pants and piss all over myself when I died? Who was going to take care of my dog? I put my hand over my heart -- my pulse must have been 200 beats a minute and I was sitting still! Had I been poisoned?

I'm a rational guy, but I confess I was losing it. I pulled over right alongside the Charles River, a couple blocks up from Harvard Square, and bolted across Memorial Drive towards the water. I have no idea why. I felt so weird and uncomfortable and out of sorts that it seemed like a good idea to get some air. I could feel a couple of ounces of liquid shit smearing all over my buttcheeks, but honestly this wasn't my primary concern at that moment. I debated whether I should make a run for Mt. Auburn Hospital -- at this point, I really was having some sort of panic and hysteria episode -- or whether I should flag down passing motorists for aid. I paced back and forth a few times and then I broke into a jog and then my fright hit its crescendo and I started sprinting.

And then, as fast as it had begun, the weird feeling went away. There I was, bent over at the waist and panting out breaths of steam with liquishit creeping down my boxers and into my pants, and suddenly my heart was back to normal and the farting stopped. Holiday shoppers shuffled through the mist across the intersection of Memorial Drive and JFK, and drivers honked and skidded, and everything suddenly seemed perfectly OK with the world, except I had just shit my pants and then sprinted three blocks like a crazy man.

My girlfriend called from the gate as I was slouching and shuffling back towards my truck, just to let me know that she was through security and her flight was on time and that everything was fine, and I was like, "Oh, hey honey... guess what just happened?" She thinks I had some sort of anxiety attack from the caffeine. I think it might have been some sort of allergic reaction. Whatever it was, I drove the rest of the way home sitting on newspaper to keep the shit from staining my truck seats. I have no idea what the fuck just hit me ... but I'm staying away from espresso for a while.

-- Mastercrapper

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

Tydiruim (not verified) -- 02.24.2003

"six shooter" "Starbucks" "buckshot" -- oh dave aren't you ever so clever.

MC: sounds like the caffiene to me. I'd switch to decaf, or maybe cut down to only 3 shots, which is still enough to kill a large dog.

pooper (not verified) -- 02.24.2003

I think you just suffered from the caffiene - I've had similar experiences. I am a law student at the U. of Iowa, and there is a coffee house in town called The Java House. Well, they have a drink called the "All Nighter", which is made with half & half, FIVE shots of espresso, and some kind of sweet syrup - I think it is caramel, but I don't remember. Anyway, being a major procrastinator, I frequently face late night study sessions, plus I share your love for coffee. This is, of course, a recepie for disaster.

One night I was at the Java House and I figured what the hell and I ordered the All Nighter. I learned the hard way that 5 shots of espresso, mixed with high-sugar syrup, is a bad idea. My whole body was on overload - my teeth were chattering, I could not sit still, my heart raced, my head pounded, and I was constantly going to the bathroom to fart, piss, crap, or some combination. I couldn't stay at the Java House because my lower gut was in serious pain. Still, in the 15 minute walk home, I managed to stain my shorts. Everything I ate would run through me in an hour or less. I did not sleep until the next afternoon, when I think my body just collapsed from exhaustion. By that point I was dehydrated and I had fully cleaned out my colon.

The lesson to be learned is that there is a reason why espresso is seved in those little cups - because you are only supposed to take that small amount. The human body is just not meant to ingest the amount of caffiene present in five (or six, in your case) shots of espresso.

Dave J. (not verified) -- 02.24.2003

MC- Kudos! I've got a few stories here too (on the site), but yours struck a chord with me. I think I'm a bit jaded by life now, but your story hit me in a particularly poignent way; I too love Coffee, Dave's insanity and pretty much everything else you mentioned. I too have experienced SIMILAR reactions to yours (although not as poetic/funny/nearly fatal). I guess what I'm trying to say is, "Thank you for making me laugh again!"

Dude, You Rock.

sara teflon (not verified) -- 02.25.2003

Back in the good old days when I was a teenage runaway, I had nothin better to do than hang out at a certain java city. I had some friends who worked there and would collect those stamped cards for a free beverage and I'd redeem them for a 14-16 ounce cup full of espresso, I'd say between 10-16 shots, depending on the barista. Then I'd go home and drink up whilst cutting and pasting various potty oriented art projects. At some point in this caffeine slamming fiasco, I'd skip eating, as to experiance the full effect of the java... needless to say, I'd spend at least half night running to a from to toilet, squirting out liquid ooze that smelled just about the same as it did on the way in. Caffeine IS a diuretic, but mixed with an empty tummy and youthfl ignorance, its a recipe for a diarhhia-filled-funfest. Yay for poo!

Justa Girl (not verified) -- 02.25.2003

"and I started farting out liquid firebombs, hot, stingy wind biscuits thick with aerated poo goo. " This is quite arguably the best report on poop EVER. I love that you thought you might be dying. I laughed so hard my nose ran. Love your stuff, Mastercrapper!

dodo (not verified) -- 02.26.2003

used to be a drink that a local coffee shop in muskogee, oklahoma made, called a '747'.

it was 7 shots of espresso, 4 shots of heavy cream, and 7 shots of caffienated ("one shot chocolate= one shot of espresso" caffienated) chocolate, served cold so you could drink it fast!

woo!

we used to live on 'em in highschool.

Pooperscooper (not verified) -- 02.26.2003

Yes, Master you definitely gave yourself a case of 'caffiene induced tachycardia'. Caffiene is a powerful heart stimulant--it used to be prescribed as such, back in the 19th century. Some people even have psychotic reactions from caffiene OD's.

I did this to myself in college. I took one too many Vivarin tablets--200mg caffiene tablets. Because I am totally unable to shit except at home, I didnt get diarrhea, but I did get a fast heartbeat, the sweats, and a mild case of dissociation--I felt spacey, as though looking at the world through a pane of glass.

If you love coffee and ever have a chance to sample Peet's I highly recommend it. But dont do more than a double espresso because Peet's is the strongest coffee on the planet--stronger than Starbucks, and it tastes much better.

In Frisco, many coffee houses serve an evil concoction that goes by the name of 'hammerhead' or 'depth charge'--a tall pint sized glass of coffee with two shots of espresso in it.

Mastercrapper (159) -- 02.26.2003

Pooperscooper -- I'm all about Peet's. I've gone in just eight short months from regarding coffee as a tool for wakefulness to actually cultivating a palate for it. In a world where people specialize in single-origin cacao seeds (see "The Mastercrap") I guess I shouldn't be surprised that there are advocates for separate coffee brands. I really like Peet's. There's a Peets in Harvard Square right near where I live and they have scharffen berger chocolate there, which I use when I bake brownies. I think I'm over my heart-ache from the coffee (the post dated back to 2002 sometime) but I'm not ready for a depth charge or a 747 ... a small Americano for this large Americano suits me just fine.

Scat Woman (not verified) -- 02.27.2003

There is a store in the city I live in, a trendy yuppie overpriced kind of supermarket, where they sell a very expensive 'gourmet' coffee, I believe the price is somewhere around $100/lb. I had heard about this from friends so had to go see for myself if it was true. What makes it so special? It is coffee beans which have been fed to cats, who pass the beans undigested and whole, in their feces. The beans are then collected and sold to idiots who will buy into this bullshit...the coffee is supposed to have a special aroma/taste due to the process and being excreted in cat shit. So I visited the Yuppie Mart and inquired about the cat poo coffee, and the clerk informed me that unfortunately they were out, some gentleman had purchased their entire supply. I burst out laughing...that there could be some freak who would actually spend the money on such a product! When I first heard about the process I did suspect that perhaps this type of coffee is what we were being served in the cafeteria at my workplace...figuring that could be the only thing to account for its taste....until I heard it was expensive. Nevertheless, the work coffee still tastes like shit.

Great story Mastercrapper, but be careful with such excess amounts of caffeine, they wreak havoc with your heart rate and could be dangerous.

pooper (not verified) -- 02.28.2003

I've heard about the poop coffee too, although I thought it was pooped by a monkey, not a cat. I don't remember exactly - and does it really matter? Just proves the old saying that a fool and their money are soon parted. I haven't seen the poop coffee in Iowa City yet, but I'll be sure to let everyone know if it should turn up. For now I'd rather take the consequences of drinking an "All Nighter" than drink poop coffee.

Tom (32) -- 03.02.2003

I like folgers, also the first time i made espresso i missed up damn 8 shots in one capaco (sic cup ) i smoked a lot og cogs that night

roni (not verified) -- 03.13.2003

i am an M.D. you are hilarious! Just so you know-- you had a major anxiety attack--fueled by the caffiene, mixed with small amounts of lingering alcohol. i promise!

Turdmatic 6000 (not verified) -- 03.30.2003

Scatwoman, Pooper...it's neither. True, the animal that craps out the coffee beans is often called a civet cat--but it's not a real cat, more of a weaselly critter.

poopeater (not verified) -- 06.16.2003

Dude ur hilarious

son of bill (not verified) -- 01.13.2004

Masshole morons? Hey buddy im from Mass, thats not nice >:-0

daphne (3607) -- 01.30.2004

Sounds like dehydration had a big part to play in it.
I, myself, CANNOT drink coffee if I'm hung over.

I don't know how you do it.

Rat Droppings (175) -- 03.30.2006

"If you don't like coffee, well, I can't help you. See somebody about that." I couldn't agree more with that statement. I drink it constantly and I'm never constipated.

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

DungDaddy (1386) -- 10.25.2006

It's a good thing you didn't die of heart failure. The medics would have found you and then they would have had a story to tell for the rest of their lives about the 30 year-old who died with poop in his pants.

doniker (1535) -- 02.24.2007

One of the all time best Poop Reports from one of the all time best PoopReporters.

Can't wait until next year at this time so I can read it again.

GottaGoGirl (2616) -- 02.24.2007

I agree, doniker. This one's a classic!

If you've read the story, "Hatchet", the pilot has horrible gas just before he kicks it. I was worried about MC, there, for a minute! :)

Comedy Blog (not verified) -- 07.18.2007

I was actually shitting while I was reading this. Great story.

Anonymous Coward (not verified) -- 12.08.2007

ohh caffiene. I drank like 5 shots of espresso via starbucks doubleshots, and ended up in the emergency room because I had a seizure. I guess it takes less for smaller people (5'7, 135... not really all that small..)

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