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 Almost...Posted 12.21.2006 by franksbeans (23)
On the way out of the restaurant, I felt like maybe I needed to take a dump. But I've never been much for using a public toilet when I could hold it and get to the home can. And it wasn't anything near imminent departure. No, the emergency feeling of my dump didn't really set in until we were on the road, and far enough away from the restaurant that there was no going back.
I was driving, and I had to return my friends to their apartment. I contemplated using their can; but as I pulled up to their place, which is on a busy road, there were no apparent parking spaces. To make matters worse, even if I wanted to park illegally in front of their apartment, put the hazards on, and make a run for their can, I couldn't have -- someone else was already in that illegal spot. And not only could I not temporarily park there, someone else was trying to squeeze past that illegally parked car, and the back end of my car was in the street, and there was traffic around, and my friends had get something out of my trunk, and that's when the other people around me started honking. It was insane! I had to leave and take my chances going home, which was only a few minutes up the road. I said a quick goodbye to everyone and actually peeled out of the driveway and raced home. And I mean raced. I was doing the audible moan and praying for strength in my sphincter. Praying. This was about the only time in my life that I asked for divine intervention to keep crap IN my body. I got home in good time, but it was feeling like a dire situation. I wasn't sure how I was going to be able to get out of the car and stand up without shitting myself. In fact, I sat there for a moment because it seemed like any motion would be enough to awaken the fecal monster in my buttocks. But I got up okay, and I actually ran up the stairs, bounding two and three at a time. I ran down the long hallway of my apartment building, undoing my belt and pants button on the run. Thankfully there was no one else in the hallway to witness my panic. I unlocked the door, and no sooner had I taken one step into the apartment when shit started to escape my ass. Two steps. A little more. Third step, and that was it. Everything. Yep, just as I was getting to the toilet and pulling down my pants, I was absolutely filling my boxer-briefs with human excrement. There was simply no holding it in at that point. I just let completely loose and reveled in the sweet, warm release. Luckily for me, I could see that the khakis I was wearing escaped any fecal sullying. I kicked them off my feet and away from the offending area. But my underpants weren't even close. I had simply unloaded into them. I was kind of hovering over the toilet awkwardly, watching gooey, runny brown escape from the leg of my underpants and onto the toilet seat. The way I was sitting at that moment, if I had moved to aim that stream of shit into the toilet, the shit at the back of my shorts would've gone on the floor. You see, my underwear was off my ass just a little bit due to the weight of the dung -- enough so that shit escaped from the back as well as down the leg of the shorts. At that point I decided to take stock of my situation. I had one cheek in a strange position on the toilet seat, the other leg hovering, shorts chock-full of brown, panting heavily due to the run to the apartment and the subsequent anal trauma. From my vantage point, there appeared to be shit on the seat, in the toilet, and some running down the side of the toilet, but I'd spared the floor. All my other clothing was saved from the scourge of my feces. If I had a pair of scissors just then, I would've cut the underwear off me like they do with patients in the ER. But all I had nearby were nail clippers. They wouldn't do. So I had to do it. By "it", of course, I mean "take off a pair of underwear that is completely filled with shit." I tried doing this as carefully as possible; but in the end, once the shorts were off of me and I was able to stand up, I was covered from waist to toe in my own excrement. I left my underwear on the toilet seat while I started up the hottest Silkwood shower I've ever taken in my life. For the first five minutes or so, all I did was spread my legs and place my hands on the wall opposite the showerhead like I was being frisked by a cop, with the water hitting the vital area. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the fact that my shower was being treated like a toilet. Once the water wasn't brown any longer, I started in on my cleansing. I scrubbed and scrubbed like a surgeon going into an operation. And when I was finally pleased with my own level of personal hygiene, I shut off the water and opened the shower curtain to reveal the ghastly scene I had left behind just left minutes earlier: crap-filled boxers on the toilet seat, along with a lot of fecal matter, in, on, and around the toilet. I got to work. I got four trash bags from the kitchen, sanitizing spray, paper towels, and I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. But the thing is, I wasn't really sure I got everything. I needed one of those black lights they use on CSI to ensure that I got every bit of brown. In the end, though, I think I did a good enough job. When finally everything was gone, I quadrupled bagged all the mess, and put it down the trash chute. My fecal nightmare was over. Post new comment
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