The September school holidays ended peacefully, followed by the mid-Autumn Festival. How I wished that the festival was held on Friday so that at least I could take a short break the day following the tiring activities of cleaning up the porch, putting mini colored candles all over the porch, hanging and arranging lanterns, preparing food, and finally partaking in a binge of mooncakes, tea, and other tasty snacks while looking at the full moon outside. But the festival was held on Tuesday and I had to endure the boredom of schooling the next day.

Y'see, schooling on the Peninsula (in southeast Asia, south of Thailand, north of Singapore, near those Indonesian islands) is sometimes generally no fun at all. Public schools there are managed by complacent officials and authorities who often subcontract their projects and stuff to other companies. Therefore, the results are shoddy masterpieces. The only good stuff they offered schools was... well, almost none. Schools are like prisons. Students are trapped there every day for six hours and they have no space for anything except extra-curricular activities and more shitty school work. And this problem is amplified by students themselves, who never give a damn about school other than staying there for six hours, studying hard, getting a freaking exam cert, and then running away to high school life. As a result, they have seriously lack of civic-mindedness. The schools squeeze out many top scorers every year, but the toilets grow even more filthy as years go by.

Why did I introduce to you to my school before telling the story? Because the most prominent part of my school are the toilets. None of them have ever been truly clean. They are usually wet and dirty. My country has the tallest towers in the whole wide world, world-class stadiums, one of the world's best airports, and a huge F1 racing circuit. But the majority of people using them have a third-world mentality. On to the mid-Autumn Festival. I was crapping out pebbles of shites. My bowels were already fickle from doing schoolwork all day long and having no good breathing space in school. As I was almost a Shameful Shitter, I detested taking a dump at school. Moreover, the toilets there were usually not a conducive place for taking a crap. If suddenly I need to take a dump, I'll shove the shites back into my arsehole and hold it until I go back home. This technique is clean and ideal, but its success depends on the s(h)ituation and the time.

The day after the Festival, I went to school as usual. Boring classes started and my mind began to wander, daydreaming about owning a big luxurious house, going to Disneyland, and buying a high-end Pentium 233MHz computer with MMX Technology. It was around 9:30 AM when the shites happened. My mid-stairs department began to rebel against me.

Upon feeling the slight cramp, I ignored it and continued daydreaming. The maths teacher was busy checking every one of her students' incomplete homework by sorting out their exercise books. I watched some poor kid get his arse smacked for putting a wrong date in one of his homeworks. The pain started again, and this time my bowels meant it.

"Stuff it back," I said in my mind repeatedly. "Hold it until one PM..."

9:45 AM. The cramps refused to cease. Holding in the shites caused so much pain that time seemed to slow down. I believe I could have held it until one, but it was already too difficult. I could feel the ballistic missile starting to launch out of my arsehole. It wasn't a Taepodong-2, but I was sure it was MUCH bigger than the ICBM.

I cursed myself. I should have stayed at home. But the strange thing was, I wondered, why in fuck's name didn't I crap out all of the shites yesterday? Why should my body carry forward all these loads on to the next day? Why?

No time for questions and regrets. My missile began to initiate its countdown sequence and it was going to launch fucking soon. Immediately I stood up and asked the angry, busy teacher for permission to go to the toilet. She nonchalantly gave me a yes. I walked quickly to the toilet, a few rooms away from my classroom.

In the toilet, two of the stalls were in a mess, bombed by other turd-terrorists. Only one was still usable. I proceeded to use the last stall, dropped my trousers, and squatted. Out of the blue, the cramp which had lingered just went away -- I wondered how it was possible that all of the pain was gone without my arsehole shooting any crap.

"Oh, this is going to be very easy," I told myself silently. "A few arse-wipes and I'm done."

And then suddenly: BOOM! The missile had launched, and I heard a loud scraping from my anus as the shite evacuated my arsehole. My horrors were confirmed when something enormous really, truly fired out from my arse and bombed the toilet bowl.

Quickly, I looked down and inspected the mess: a huge, hard log in a pool of hot, steaming, viscous, brown-yellow-ochre-ish FecoLava™, thicker than Crappucino™. The stench was so strong that it could peel paint off on the wall.

"Oh... shite..." I muttered in discomfort.

This mess was horrible. It was one of my most FUBARed shits in my life. Without further ado, I grabbed two Kleenex packets out of my pocket and fished out some tissues. Remember, these facial tissues are not designed for properly wiping arseholes.

My anus felt extremely hot, and traces of FecoLava™ coated a huge portion of my sphincter. The Kleenex got stuck onto my slimy arsehole; so, in a slow-and-steady manner, I used another huge pile of Kleenex to push away the stuck tissues, along with the slime, into the bowl. I took great care not to rip the flimsy tissues when wiping.

As I made my last wipe, I felt there were still some shites wedging in the exit of my poop-chute. Nevertheless, I stood up, pulled up my trousers for the moment, and flushed the entire terror scene down into the miserable sewers. I hastily washed my arse clean with the little tap (I didn't want any skid-marks in my undies) and then used the remaining tissues to wipe my arse and legs dry.

I opened the stall door, washed my hands quickly, and returned to my classroom without raising any suspicion. I had taken only five or ten minutes, and that was just way too quick. That's a lesson learned: your bowels will become fickle when you are under stress, and worse. If they are too unpredictable, get a leave in school, if possible. And always bring some sheets of REAL toilet paper to school with you.