It had been about four or five days since my last good evacuation, and I could start to feel something going wrong. My insides began to get tighter and tighter. I presume it was the perfect storm of poop conditions -- midway through the holiday season, sitting in front of a computer getting last minute homework done before the break, a change in eating patterns... who knows?

The time had come to leave the dorms. I had a three-hour drive ahead of me to my girlfriend's dad's house. After three hours of bumping down the road I knew the problem had literally been compacted -- my colon could be compared with a cement mixer. The ride bounced all the material from the four corners of my digestive tract straight to the holding bay.

Finally I had arrived; but still nature was not calling. I parked the car, got out, and prepared to greet everyone. I still had turd on my thoughts, but I pushed it to the back of my mind because now was not the time. I went inside and everything went as planned. Me, my girlfriend, and our mutual friend Mandy were crashing here for the weekend. The plan was to hang out, play some cards, and see the sights.

Later that night, my girlfriend's father, being the cool guy he is, offered me some of his Jack Daniels, knowing I was over twenty-one and knowing that I would be spending the weekend so he had no worries of me driving anywhere. I drank up, got a buzz, and crashed on the couch.

But this is not where the pooping begins.

The next day. A hearty breakfast, coffee, and my morning cigarette. The poop began to resurface in my mind. It was as if it was jealous of being ignored the night before. I knew crapping in their toilet would be risky business because I had taken a leak in it the night before and noted it was what I like to call low-flow. I decided I had held it this long -- I could hold it longer.

Finally someone suggested we go rent some movies to watch later and everyone agreed. We hopped in my car and eventually arrived at the strip mall. After grabbing some movies, we moved to our second mission: picking up some dog food for my girlfriend's dad. So we walked over to the adjacent Price Chopper. As soon as I walked through the automatic doors, I thought to myself, "Now is the time to carpe diem."

I told my friends I would meet them at the checkout and I moved on to my personal mission. I circled the perimeter looking for the bathroom, and was pleased with what I found: one of those single crapper bathrooms with a monster public toilet inside. I locked the door and prepared for the work ahead of me.

It was slow going at first -- it probably took about half the time just moving it that first three inches to the launch site. But once it was there, I knew this was going to take some more time to ease out. I could feel it was a large one, most likely tapered like a football.

At first my plan was to keep my ass clenched to a specific diameter to teach this poop who's boss, to mold it to my will. But I soon realized this poop had a mind of its own -- and, since it was compacted into a brick, it was going to take some finesse.

I had taken big dumps before, but this one takes the cake, There was no way I was just going to count to three and push because I think my asshole would have exploded. I almost began to lose hope. For a brief moment, horrifying thoughts flew through my mind. I thought of every horrible situation that could occur -- how horrible it would be if this thing was as condensed as I thought it was and how I would not be able to sit for weeks. How if I did push this thing out, it was going to pull my insides out with it. How mortifying it would be if I had to go to the hospital for this. And how gross I was because I was ready to physically dig it out of my ass before I went to the hospital over it.

Finally I decided to step back for a minute and come up with a new approach. As the poop retracted to its resting position, it hit me: I would apply my four-wheeling experience to this. Like a jeep stuck in the mud, I was going to rock this thing back and fourth until it was unstuck.

I took a deep breath and started the tug of war.

I was relieved to find that with each motion this beast was being subdued. At this point I knew I was taking a while in the bathroom, but I also knew that I could take my time because the car keys were in my pocket. This was not the moment to rush anything. It was like taking two steps forward and one step back with each heave.

But I was making progress. I could hear a voice in my head that sounded like Scotty -- "We can't take much more of this, captain! The o-ring's gonna blow!" -- but I kept going.

Finally, like a bomb, it dropped.

One of the most amazing things about this shit is that there was hardly any wiping needed -- it was one clean-cut shit.

I got up to survey the damage and was amazed that this had come out of my ass. This was one monster floater. I gave it a salute, and I flushed. But this guy was not going down without a fight. In the end (pun intended), I decided to call it a draw and left it floating there. I'm sure it will go down in that Price Chopper's history as the monster turd some kid employee had to chop up with a plunger to get down the shitter.

After washing my hands and breathing a sigh of relief, I unlocked the door and emerged with a smile on my face as the victor. When I found my friends, they could see the expression of relief, joy, and accomplishment in my face. "What's up?" they had to ask.

To which I replied with confidence: "Nothing!"