This story is about the bond I shared with my aunt, my best friend. Please don't focus so much on the way it ends. I prefer to see the whole picture.
My aunt and I had a rather unusual relationship. She suffered with painful IBS, and I had anxiety related poo issues growing up. My mom is very sweet but not really the person to go to when dealing with difficult situations. Glory, however, was always there to laugh with me about our shared embarrassments, and eventually, because of her humor, my poo problems faded away to being a mere annoyance. Her favorite poop story involved me and a situation I caused because I didn't listen to my body.
Last summer, I was stressing out (and had been all spring) because every year our organization hosts a fundraiser to help homeless youth. I was severely short on volunteers for our carnival and was going to have to ask the staff to work double duty at a carnival... in Houston... in August... To soften the blow, I decided to take the job no one else signed up for.
Two months later I found myself the costumed greeter, dressed as a yellow dinosaur covered in green spots. I danced and waved and generally made an ass out of myself, as required. Halfway into the day, the little fan in the bottom of the costume burned out, and the day was getting hot. The costumer assured me that this was not a problem and that the fan would kick back on when the costume reached a warmer temperature, so I went to the concession stand for some delicious lemon ice to quench my thirst. After drinking several of these, I had a hotdog and fries covered in carnie chili. I was on-top-of-the-world happy, and so I saw no risk from my nervous bowel to complicate things. Throughout the day my stress ramped up, as people called in sick, and I had to cover more stations by begging and bribing people to work longer.
Suddenly, I got a huge, disgusting cramp -- the kind you get where you freeze in your tracks, afraid to move. A cold bead of sweat developed, and I felt it trace its way down my butt crack. It was like the tiny droplet was wiggling down my crack to push the button that would open the gates of Hell. My ass quickly reverse-puckered, which I sometimes imagine looking like a toothless, old woman's mouth after she has been sucking on a lemon. I slowly waddled towards the port-o-jons. I felt like something was trying to pry open my rectum with sharp harpie claws, so I dashed to the blue-watered closet like I was in the last two minutes of an action film. Somewhere along the way the tail fell off my cheap costume, and my secretary, who was replacing a trash liner, picked it up and chased after me. I heard her laughing and saying, "Wow, you are really getting into this costume thing."
Just as the toilet came in view, I realized it was about to be over. I lurched as the winged monkeys took flight, and I doubled over in pain, nearly kneeling at this point. As the high pressure hoses spurt the last spray, I overheard the sharp voice of a child angrily asking his mommy why the dinosaur got to poop outside.
While taking my walk of shame back to the costume tent, I heard a sickening whir; I realized the fan in my costume was now working again.
My aunt cried with laughter as I recounted every detail later that night on the phone. I was humiliated but never held back a poop story from her.
In her high voice, shrill with a Louisiana drawl, she said, "Fuck'em. Fuck'em all! You go back in on Monday with a candy bowl full of Hershey Kisses and Tootsie Rolls and smile like it was the best performance of your life!"
I ended up doing exactly that, and when someone started whispering about me, I smiled and said, "Everyone knows I shit all over myself. You don't have to whisper." By Tuesday things were back to normal. Now every time we are at a gathering and someone starts telling embarrassing stories, I tell this story before anyone else can.
This story ends with a mild prank I played on her. Just as church let out and we were to take her to the cemetery, I asked for a moment to say goodbye, and I slipped a toilet brush that I had spray-painted gold into the casket. She would have found that to be hilarious. We were, after all, the brown sheep of the family.