I was like ten and in a big public park for my dad's company picnic. I had to crap sooooo bad. It was a too-many-cheeseburgers-and-root-beers-and-french-fries-and-ice-cream crap. You know the kind -- it's actually gonna be nice and rock hard until you add that ice cream. Then it's all to hell.
I had to squirt so bad I actually went into those gross toilets they have in the parks. There was only one toilet stall. And there was some man in it!
Remember, I'm ten. I don't want to crap my pants.
Damn, I don't want to crap my pants now, either.
So I look at the stall. I look at the urinal. I feel the rumbling in my intestines. I'm sweating. I look at the stall. I look at the urinal. The rumbling isn't going away -- it's getting worse. Oh no!
I pull my shorts down, do a 180, and crap in the urinal.
Ugh! Horrible!
So this a$$hole who was in the stall for EVER is NOW done, of course, just as I'm walking away from the fresh caramel I manufac-turd in the urinal.
He's like, "Hey boy, did you just take a dump in the urinal?"
"Uh... no."
"Yes, you did!"
Then why did you ask, you big c0¢ksucker?!
God, I was so humiliated.
It turned out (of course) that the guy was one of my dad's co-workers. Thankfully he didn't tell my parents, but he kept winking at me like he wanted to cup my grapes or something. Like he knew he had this big thing on me, but it was "our little secret."
I wanted to die.
At the office, my dad became the hey-it's-the-guy-whose-kid-craps-in-urinals guy.
Is Dad going to ground me? Yell at me? Smack me in the head?
None of the above. He was so nice about it. To make me feel better, he took me out to Friendly's for hamburgers and ice cream.
My dad has a sick sense of humor.