Ryan was an interesting lad. He was five, pronounced his R's like W's, and ran around like a kid who needed Ritalin but didn't take it. He always looked shaggy and smelled constantly like oatmeal baby puke. I was eleven, so he annoyed me, but my little sister was five and naturally they played together.
One day Ryan was over and playing with my sister in the yard. They were chasing each other around and looking like they were having lots of fun, like little kids always look. I was watching TV when they came running inside, screaming and laughing. My mother offered them Yoo-Hoos (great -- more fuel to the fire) and got them going even crazier, going bonkers from room to room.
Naturally, I was annoyed. But the yelling stopped suddenly. Soon after I heard a door slam shut. A couple minutes later the door opened again and the madness re-ensued like nothing ever happened. My mother sent them out of the house and life went back to normal... almost.
As soon as they leave, I heard my mother scream.
"Oh my Gaad!"
She was in the bathroom and looking into the toilet. The water was brimming to the top and the bowl was still singing. She asked me, "Did you do this?!"
"No... did you?"
"No!"
We look for the plunger, but we had just moved in so we couldn't find it. And leave it to Mom, being the tough mom she is, to slap on a pair of latex gloves and go elbow-deep into the watery hole.
The yellowest piss water was spilling out everywhere as she tried maneuvering her arm around. As she kept moving, the water was turning murky brown and the smell became increasingly horrendous.
Finally Mom found the source. She pulled it out and held it up like a Super Bowl trophy. What at first seemed like a huge wad of toilet paper was actually a softball-sized shit -- no exaggeration! -- complete with little nuggets of whatever. She looked at me in horror.
"Get a plastic bag!"
I brought the bag back and held it open as she dropped it in with a sound plop and rustle. It was amazing. The giant turd was completely solid and quite literally the size and shape of a softball, or even a large grapefruit. We couldn't believe it, but it had to have come out of that little five-year-old's asshole.
I looked outside: my sister and Osama bin Cloggin were still there playing. He was picking his nose. No remorse. Unbelievable.
The water went down and clean-up got underway. Strangely, not a trace of toilet paper was found; a not-so clean getaway.
