I had just returned to the barracks and bedded down for a day's snooze after a mid-shift's grueling work. One of my roommates was preparing to venture off for his dayshift job... lucky bastard.
Suddenly he rushed back into the room, shouting, "Get up! You gotta see this!" Torn groggily from my sleepy reverie, I grudgingly followed him down the hall to the latrine, thinking to myself, "This better be good."
He led me around to the wall where the row of doorless stalls was located. He stopped in front of the first stall and pointed. "Look at that!" he intoned breathlessly. My eyes followed his pointing finger and... there it was... nestled in the commode... the biggest turd I had ever seen. No -- it was the biggest turd I had ever imagined.
"Big" is not a descriptive enough word for this monster. Jonathan Swift would have probably described it as "brobdingnagian." I wondered what Goliath had painfully strained this monster from his asshole.
The base of the turd sat in the hole in the bottom of the commode. It possessed the girth of a quart-sized bottle of beer. It stood proudly erect and stuck up as high as the commode seat. If an unsuspecting second shitter had sat on the commode, he would have been stabbed. It was a dark khaki color, except for the streaks of blood that adorned it up to the point that it began to taper. What a relief it must have been for the poor, overstretched asshole when the tapering had started.
There was no evidence that any wiping had been attempted.
One of our house boys had arrived on the scene and was, amid grumbling and cursing, trying to break the turd into smaller pieces with a mop handle so it would flush. The turd was very hard and I am sure it made a clean exit from the poop chute of the pooper.
I never knew who birthed this mighty piece of fecal matter; but over forty years later, my hat is still off to him. In my opinion, this anonymous man took one of the great dumps of the 20th Century.
