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 The Sloppiest Place On EarthPosted 09.29.2004 by Jonathan Rowe (24)
After living in Brazil for about two years, my family moved to the California for a few months. One of my favorite places was Disneyland, so after all the family reunions and other welcome back events, we decided to go there.
I called up my cousin to go with us. We woke up really early the next morning, since it takes forty-five minutes to get there from where I lived, and we wanted to be there from open to close. I dropped a brick right before we left. After the long drive, we finally arrived. Since my cousin and I wanted to go nuts on all the rides, we figured my family would slow us down. So we split up, and we went off to do our own thing. My dad told us specifically: meet us at the parade at 6:45. Right then it was about eight in the morning, so we had plenty of time on our hands. We had a bunch of money for lunch, too. After going on probably every single ride in the whole place, we made our way to lunch. Fries, hot-dog, chili, more fries, and a bunch of ice cream and other crap -- I ate so much I thought I would never eat again. But since I had plopped a loaf in the morning, I thought I was going to be safe for the rest of our little adventure. Finally we made our way to Tomorrow Land, and there we saw Space Mountain. It had a huge line in front of it, and I mean HUGE! But we decided what the heck and got in line. We were in it for at least two hours until we finally got on the ride. And then it happened. No, I did not poop ON the ride... but with all that jolting and jerking, it really stirred up my bowels. I chose to ignore it. We had a few of those fast-pass tickets, so right after the first ride we chose to go again, and this time we used our fast-pass and got straight through in about ten minutes. So we rode again. Even that wasn't enough for us, we had to go AGAIN, but this time we had to wait in the normal line. Halfway through the line, something weird happened to me. I felt a shock from the nervous system near my cheeks, and other little shocks throughout my body. My second mouth started to make little twitches, like a dying spider. The contractions were inexplicable. I knew that I would pay for neglecting earlier to answer my duties. The sweat dripped down my face, and I turned to my cousin and explained it to him. Being a good person, he said that he wouldn't go on the ride without me. So I ran to the nearest bathroom, and saw that there was a huge line -- of course, Disneyland always has lines. So I sat on the bench outside the bathroom and waited for a go. While I sat, I felt like a little alien was going to pop outside my stomach; my spine was curling, every fart came with a little gravy, my body was shaking, and my poor sweaty little cheeks were trembling with fear of the beast to come. And then -- it was all gone, like a ghost poop. I thought it must have been a false alarm. My dad called on my cell phone and reminded me that we were supposed to meet him at the parade, which would start in about two hours. So I thought hey, we got plenty of time. We all know about how when you gotta poo, but then you wait so long that you don't hafta anymore, but then it backfires later on. We had gone all the way back to Space Mountain and were back in line again; but this time, it was much worse .We were only about twenty feet away from our turn to go on when the beast roared in its lair. The sudden anal contractions possessed my limbs and sent me into an anus-pinching frenzy. I tried and tried with all my might to pinch my gluteus maximus to close the hatch, but my efforts did not find success. Standing there in line, in an upright position, leaning against the railing, all hell broke loose. The beast was unleashed into my underwear . Thankfully for me, it was a good, healthy, solid one. I was accustomed to the Brazilian way of dressing -- not boxers, but tightie-whitie underwear. So there was wave one, a steaming hunk of log in between my cheeks. I could feel the freshly baked butt nugget weighing in my pants. Had I been wearing boxers, it would've oozed down my leg onto the floor. The smell was the most rancid thing I have ever experienced. Everyone around me started coughing and I did the same, just to distract the suspicion away from me. My cousin wasn't even laughing -- it was so gross that it wasn't even funny. As the line pressed on, someone called an employee to see what that awful smell was. Well, obviously I didn't go on the ride, because the smoked ham would've crawled up my back and down my legs. The walk of shame out of the line was pretty awkward, especially since I had to walk with my legs spread out so as not to make a poo sandwich between my thighs. Bu the time I found a bathroom without a line, it had been like three hours since my dad had called. In the bathroom, I pulled my pants down, sat on the pot, and picked up that li'l bad boy. For some reason I threw it in the trash instead of in the toilet -- I dunno why. Then I tainted the bowl with the beast's offspring. My parents were furious ("Where have you been, young man, we've been looking all over for you!"), but when I explained the situation, they understood. Months later, when I bought boxers and threw out all my old undies, I still kept the one that had delivered the beast -- no chemical had been able to take that stain out. -- Jonathan Rowe Post new comment
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