I have read several stories involving liquishits, so now I thought I'd make my own contribution. I'm one of the sufferers of an Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD) called
Ulcerative Colitis. Of course, I don't suffer as much as those around me.
One of the unfortunate (or fortunate, depending on your perspective) side effects of an IBD flare-up is what I call The Sharts. A shart, of course, is a combination of a liquishit and fart that occurs simultaneously. Many of you have probably experienced a shart after a long night of binge drinking on cheap beer or eating really spicy Mexican or Cajun food. Here's how The Sharts works: first, you feel the gut pains, so you sit on the throne, thinking you're about to drop a massive load. Next, you begin to let the pre-shit farts rip, only to discover you feel as though you're pissing out of your asshole. In one fell swoop, you've both farted and shit all at once. Finally, the bathroom smells so foul that even you are offended.
The Sharts are lethal. Those of you with IBD (Crohn's as well as UC) know what I'm talking about.
Of course, you don't have to have IBD to shart. Anything that causes the runs can cause a person to shart. In fact, that reminds me of a funny story of my first true shart.
I work in a medical profession (I'm not a doctor or nurse, but I'm a medical professional nonetheless). In 1996, I was working at a clinic in a Dallas suburb that was part of a national chain not known for its ethical conduct. Me, I was unhappy because I was constantly being told by my superiors to do things that weren't ethical or legal, and they were making life hell for me since I refused to do them. I started looking for another job, and was ultimately fired for getting caught doing so... but that's another story.
About a week before I was fired, I took a post-lunch dump at work. We had a main bathroom for everyone to use, and a private head in the break room for employees only. It was such a small bathroom, it wouldn't qualify as a half-bath in a house -- maybe a quarter at best! It was almost as small as an airplane toilet. The toilet itself was one of those older, tiny, erratic toilets that left you fearing it would crap out someday soon. Often times, you'd have to wait a few minutes before you could flush it a second time. And on occasion, depressing the flush handle a second time would return absolutely no action whatsoever.
At the time, I was one of only two people who worked at this facility, and the other was out to lunch. Besides, she always chose the main women's bathroom over the smaller private one. As I said, it was very small, and had a very weak flush to it. Even the flush handle was sloppy and felt weak when you pushed it. Post flush, it would fill up about halfway so lazily that after an hour or so, there was barely two inches of water in the bowl. Scared that any flush might be its last, I didn't do a pre-dump flush for fear it wouldn't work after I finished my business.
I sat down on the tiny commode, feeling what seemed like a massive turd trying to push its way out. I began to let out my pre-dump fart only to find that I was getting the bonus plan: my first real shart. On this occasion, the long, super slimy turd (or so I thought) was so slick, it felt like a fourteen-incher came out at record velocity in record time, in a matter of 0.5 to 1.2 seconds, which was the length of the loud gas blast that accompanied it. As soon as the fart stopped, so did the shit.
"Wow," I thought to myself, "that was easy." All the pressure had been relieved and there was nothing else to push out. It was a surprisingly clean wipe. I stood up to look at my turd, thinking that it would look even longer and bigger in the tiny bowl than it would have in a normal toilet. When I got up to inspect, I couldn't believe what I saw: a giant mountain of shit.
This was the only time in my life that I have been mistaken about the consistency of my poop. I could have sworn it was a solid -- albeit super slick -- turd; but what beheld me was an enormous mound of poop sitting in the two inches of water. In fact, it crested like an iceberg into a pile that was partially above the water and partially under it. It took up well over sixty-five percent of the size of the bowl, which is impressive even for a small commode.
But it had felt solid coming out. I would guess that if it had one percent more water content, it would have been pure diarrhea; and if it had one percent less, it would have been a solid turd.
To this day, I do not know how so much poo could come out in such a short span of time. I've often debated whether or not to call Guinness Book of World Records, because this had to be some kind of first in history: a giant mound of shit that came out in record time, and left a clean wipe. Sure, the small bowl made it look larger in some ways, but empirically, everyone would agree that this was still a ton of poo. I even showed it to a friend who came by to visit with me, and he was in total awe.
But here's the kicker: the fear that one day the toilet wouldn't work came to fruition. I depressed the flusher, and nothing happened. I checked to make sure the water hadn't been turned off, and I even pulled the lid of the tank to see if the chain had broken or something. All the parts were intact -- but for some reason, there was next to no water in the tank. I tried later in the day, as well as again over the next day or two, to see if I could get it to flush; but it remained dead as a doornail, loaded with a giant mound of shit.
I was too embarrassed to tell anyone at work about it, so I left it there with the hopes that I'd come up with some solution to get it down the drain. A week later I was fired after getting caught looking for another job. I remembered the mountain of shit I'd left behind, and was satisfied that my employer would later discover it and have to deal with herself. I'm sure by that time, the bathroom stunk so bad she probably had to call in a Hazmat team to clear it out.
That was my first ever shart. It was atypical in style and substance when compared to the usual watery sharts that occur with a typical colitis flare-up. I consider it as my masterpiece in my pooping history, as well as my best revenge, even though it came as a prequel to my being fired. Is there such a thing as pre-revenge?
