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 The Rising TidePosted 10.30.2003 by Randy (15)
I never thought I'd have a story that was worthy of PoopReport, but here goes. This just occurred tonight, and I feel I have to write this now before I forget any details. Besides, after what just happened, I can't really sleep now anyway.
Earlier tonight, approximately 1 AM. After, well... you know... with my girlfriend... I had to dispose of the little general's... parachute... in the toilet. I flush, the water level rises, nothing goes down. The water level recedes, and stops. I try two more times, same results. Pissed, I resign myself to calling my apartment maintenance in the morning. And, disgustingly, I reached in and grabbed what was floating in there and threw it in the trash so as not to gross out the maintenance man. Fortunately, no biological Christmas presents were there at the time; just the jimmy protector and some toilet paper. After some furious hand washing, I told my girlfriend not to go #2 if at all possible, and I went to sleep. Fast forward: 3:45 AM. I awake with an all too familiar pain in my gut. This isn't my normal poop urge. I've had this condition all my life. I've undergone horribly uncomfortable medical testing to try and diagnose it, but the doctors have never given me a final diagnosis or an effective medication. The nearest I can figure, it's some kind of irritable bowel syndrome (IBS). Basically, it's a tremendous burning acidy feeling in my intestines, and it comes with an unstoppable urge to shit. And I mean, un-F'ING-stoppable. Drop-everything-no-matter-where-and-let-the-torrent-loose unstoppable. I've crapped in the forest near a lake while fishing once, it's that bad. So anyway, I get this urge, and I have to bite the bullet and go, deciding to allow "morning me" to deal with the brown consequences. I go, wipe, assess the situation, and, testing my faith in my crap-eating friend, I try flushing again. No dice. Same results, except this time the water level didn't recede. It was just below the brim, and there was now a bubblin' crude inside. My internal organs satisfied, I went back to bed. But before being able to doze off, the feeling returned, as it often does. Usually there are 2-3 attacks that require the diarrhea keg to be tapped multiple times. Powerless, I had to go again. A much hotter, juicier substance flowed this time. And there was some corn. Once the pain subsided, I wiped yet again, and decided that this had to be handled immediately, before a real disaster struck. The toilet was not looking good, although luckily the water level did recede this time. I know nothing of toilets and how they work -- I assume it's all done by magic. The only thing I can think of trying is using a plunger, which of course I don't own. So I threw on some clothes, extremely pissed since I was awake at 4 AM and have work tomorrow morning, and decided to drive to the only store that was open 24 hours. But this was not to be an easy journey, because the rumbling pain was returning. I drove as quickly as I could without speeding too badly, praying to myself to not stain my car's interior with ass turtle wax. I was blessed with all green lights on the 5-7 minute drive. I got to the store, which was empty except for two employees stocking shelves. I briskly walked to the hardware-ish aisle, and found the two plunger pieces. Racing to the checkout aisles, there was no clerk. Crestfallen (shitfallen?), I rang the small bell on the counter several times. I saw one employee across the store look at me, and then turn away, ignoring me. The bitch bastard, may he burn in hell. A minute later another guy finally came over and rang me up. He asked me how I was, and I replied that I could be better. He chuckled and wished me good luck as I quickly left the store. The pain was temporarily subsiding now, but I know from experience never to get too comfortable. I got home, and sure enough, as I was walking back to my apartment, it was returning. Like Luke Skywalker assembling his first lightsaber, I screwed the wooden handle of the plunger into the rubber end, and went inside. I stripped down to my boxers, held my breath, and pushed the plunger down. My ass-saber driving into porcelain Darth Vader's mouth. A murky brown cloud filled the water. I plunged a few times, mentally crossed my fingers, and flushed. Thank merciful God, it worked. I put the plunger in the tub and punished my toilet with a sweet, sweet shit. Relieved, I finished, and flushed. The plunger looked like a prisoner of war. I rinsed it under the faucet in the tub, and that is the end of my story. If there's a moral, it is this: do your ass a favor and make sure you own a plunger. -- Randy Post new comment
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