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 Practice RunsPosted 05.18.2006 by panthersguy (10)
My name is Jason and I poop all the time. This story is entirely true. It took place in Wilmington, NC, sometime in January 2001. I was in the sixth grade then and played on a year-round soccer team that practiced at the University of North Carolina campus at Wilmington.
So one day I went to the movies before soccer practice and had way too many Hot Tamales (they are dank as hell, though). After the movie I went directly to soccer practice. It was cold outside, so I was wearing sweat pants. About ten minutes into practice I began to feel like I was getting the runs. We still had like two hours left, and no one had ever gone to the bathroom during practice, so I decided to hold it in. I thought it could just be a temporary thing, and that it would pass. That was one of the worst decisions of my life. Take my advice, world: NEVER TRY TO HOLD IN THE RUNS. If you get anything out of the story, let it be that. After about fifteen minutes of holding it in, I felt the worst I ever had in my life. I decided I needed to find a bathroom or I might die. So I went up to my coach and was like, "I need to go to the bathroom." By the look on my face, he could tell I meant business. He said he didn't know where one was, but he gave me permission to leave. So I went to try and find a bathroom, running on and off (because it was hard to run with the bowel pains I was having). Then I reached the point where I was like, "I can't hold this any longer." So I pulled my sweat pants down and splattered my diarrhea all over a tree and a bike rack. It was dark outside, so no one saw me. After reading that, you probably think it was the end of the story. But this nightmare was far from being over. As y'all know, if you have the true runs, you go multiple times. It was nighttime, so most of the buildings on the campus were locked. But I was in luck because UNCW was having a basketball game that night. Seahawk basketball is really popular in Wilmington because they had some success in the NCAA Tournament a few years back, when they beat USC. So a lot of people attend their games. I saw one entrance that was open, and I ran up to it. The guy told me it was the booster club entrance, and he said I could use the bathroom upstairs. I was overjoyed with happiness because I now thought I could finally expel the remaining diarrhea and get to wipe from the last expulsion. But no -- the guy was messing with me. There was no bathroom upstairs. I looked for at least two or three minutes. The guy must have seen how desperate I was and wanted to see me suffer. If I ever find that man, I will fight him. I went down a different set of stairs and left the building. I was now desperate for help. It was getting worse than before and I couldn't hold it much longer. So I started just banging on random doors on the coliseum. And finally a basketball player opened one. I don't know which one he was or if he even played on the team. All I know is he had a basketball in his hand and although he wasn't in a uniform, he was sweating. I asked him if there was a bathroom I could use and he brought me into a locker room. I have no idea if it was the Seahawks locker room or the visitor's -- all I knew was I had to take a dump. I thanked him and ran into the nearest stall. I couldn't hold it much longer. I quickly pulled down my sweat pants -- but it was too late. The diarrhea came out involuntarily. It splattered on the sides of the stall, the back wall, all over my sweat pants, and even on my shirt. The velocity at which that shit came out made it defy gravity or something, because I have no idea how it otherwise could have gotten on my shirt. So I sat down and wiped. After I was done, I felt good. Then I thought, "How am I going to get myself out of this situation?" The crap was all over my clothes and I had no cell phone. I carpooled to practice with somebody, and his mom was going to pick us up. So I was in quite a pickle. I cleaned myself up as best I could, but it was shit -- and shit stays were it goes. I turned my pants inside out so it wouldn't be that noticeable. But it was. My shirt was white and the juicy shit had soaked in or something; you could see it on both sides. I then set on a quest to call my mom to pick me up. So there I was, walking in the middle of a crowd of people at a basketball game, covered in diarrhea. I smelled terrible and everyone thought I was retarded. I knew UNCW has courtesy phones (thank God), and that's what I was looking for. I finally found one after a three or four minute search that consisted of total embarrassment. I called my house and prayed for an answer. After my mom picked up, I said, "Mom, I crapped all over myself. Come pick me up." My mother wasn't surprised at all because I have the runs all the time. (I have no idea why -- I should probably go to the doctor about it.) I waited outside for like thirty minutes for her to come. She had to put newspapers in the seats so the crap wouldn't smear into the upholstery. Later, I told the coach and my teammates this crazy lie that I had barfed everywhere. They believed me. But yeah, that night sucked. Post new comment
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