Freshman year of high school. It was a big change. All the seniors looked so adult with their facial hair and tallness. I was excited to finally be starting the amazing and confusing journey that is high school, but it was so new. I had no idea what was going on most of the time. The bell schedule was hard enough to figure out. The teachers were complete and weird strangers. There were so many kids that I didn't know.
But the one time of day that is just a fabulous break from the rigors of public high school education is lunchtime. There were so many more choices in high school than in dinky little middle school. I had to try everything.
The first couple things I tried for lunch treated me well. At least, they tasted okay and didn't make me want to throw them back up. Then came Salad Day. It was a chef's salad that tried to do me in. I ate it and it didn't taste so bad. Typical cheap salad. I avoided the hard-boiled egg that was included. Then I walked around the campus with my friends to pass the time.
A few minutes later, The Horrors hit me. My stomach cramped up and I felt like it was being ripped apart. Then The Sweats kicked in. I started grinding my teeth from the Poop Pain. I told my friends that I needed to get to class early and ran to the closest Poop Room I could find.
I was only a freshman. I didn't know the territory very well. I spent five minutes sweating bullets and desperately clenching my butt cheeks to keep the Poop Dam closed. By the last minute of the search, the baby was crowning. I finally spotted a bathroom and ran to the entrance. I didn't care who the hell was in the bathroom; I needed to give birth.
I ran into the first empty stall I could find, ignoring the period stains all over the seat and the mystery water that was all over the floor. I hung my backpack on the flimsy hook on the door, unbuttoned my jeans and forced them down like a horny teenage slut, and plopped my ass down.
The release was sweet. First, it was a small fart. Just a teeny one to start off the show. Then the warm flow of urine. A few wet farts later and the main attraction: the steady flow of small, solid marbles and liquid goods. It felt so good yet so completely wrong. I could feel the toilet water splashing up against my delicate ass.
The strain was so great I could have given myself a heart attack. It was one of those diarrhea sessions where you kept like pushing and pushing yet nothing really comes rushing out.
I stayed in the poor dirty stall until it was all out. I wiped myself with the single-ply toilet paper the school gets in reams. I couldn't wipe enough times with the splintery sheets. I just felt so... unclean.
By the time I was done trying to get all the berries and juices out, the warning bell rung. I had to get out of there and get to class. I got off the poop chair, got my jeans back on, and turned around to see my feces creation.
It was jaw-dropping. The entire surface of the toilet water was covered in my splat.
I smiled. It was like making a ceramic mug in art class: no matter how crooked and ugly it was, it was my creation, my baby.
Then I knew I had to send it to Poo Heaven. I flushed the toilet with my foot (God knows what people do to the handles), put my backpack back on, and left the stall. After washing my hands and getting to class, my friend asked me why I was smiling. I just smiled at her and said, "Oh, I just feel a rush of relief." She looked at me weird and got back to her last-minute studying.
We had a quiz that day in Freshman English. I definitely aced it. Thanks for the confidence, Poo Baby.
