Three Days Of Poo In Peru
I am an American living in Peru. This point is crucial to the story; while Peru is no India or China, its bathrooms are still severely lacking in their equipment. Toilets often don't have a seat. Paper is on a bring-your-own basis. Only American chains such as Starbucks or McDonald’s will have a well-stocked bathroom.
I had recently acquired a large quantity of marihuana. Smoking this most wonderful herb produced a severe appetite, one which I proceeded to satiate throughout the weekend. I'm usually a daily pooper; time varies, but either late at night or early in the morning. I'm typically able to carry on with work and such with no fear of a surprise dookie. Having consumed a mega personal banquet at KFC, a full-sized Dominos Pizza with bread sticks, a large plate of Chinese food, assorted fruits for breakfast, and multiple bags of chips over Saturday and Sunday, my colon was full on Monday. Anticipating a morning deuce I woke up a bit early; however, nothing came about. I figured I'd empty my swollen bowels at night. Unfortunately the pain struck while at work.
Bombing my work was not an option. I'm a teacher and there is no teacher's only bathroom, and the one we have is so small that I feared being seen by my students. I held in this monster of a deuce all evening, from six to ten p.m., suffering in pain throughout the night. We are encouraged to stand throughout classes but I stayed seated, hoping the additional pressure of the firm leather chair would support my failing sphincter. I managed to finish work, but now getting home was the concern. I rely on public transport. In this case I'd have taken a taxi in a heartbeat, but as I was without any real money this was not an option.
I stumbled onto a bus and was forced to stand in the midst of multiple people. Gas proceeded to exit my bowels and people began to open windows, something uncommon in April, as it is the Peruvian winter. Peruvians will not open a bus window from April to November despite temperatures of seventy degrees – they are terrified of anything below seventy-two. Hearing some fellow passengers mutter obscenities in Spanish made me smile momentarily. But the knowledge that I still had five more minutes in the bus, followed by a five-minute walk home concerned me. No public bathrooms worthy of this waste were within walking distance.
I nearly fell out of the bus and proceeded home. This part was arguably the toughest. The delicate balance between clenching one's cheeks and walking quickly is hard to maintain. I finally arrived at home but still had five floors of stairs to climb, and everybody knows climbing stairs when you have a turtle head is akin to walking through a minefield. It's dangerous.
As I hit the last flight of stairs I bolted upward in full sprint and opened my door. Charging forward toward the bathroom at maximum velocity I finally arrived. At this point something started moving out of my ass and I managed to drop my drawers. Part of a log was still anchored to my anus and it tapped the toilet seat, leaving a streak that would affix itself to my inner thigh. I then released. The amount of excrement was enough to cause my blood pressure to change immediately. I felt as though I had given birth from my ass. I almost fainted.
I believe my internal pressure dropped so much that I became light-headed. The deuce had been dropped in as little time as it had taken to start, and that it was over in such a short time was a bit of a disappointment. But I was relieved at last. Over two – possibly three – days of food was deposited in the bottom of my toilet. And now the moment of truth: Would this pure solid pile of dense matter go down the impossibly small hole toward freedom? Or, would I have to man the plunger and attack?
The first flush pushed a large quantity of fecal matter down. However, so much was still in the bowl that it appeared as if someone had just shit anyway. The second flush proved ineffective. Apparently, this darkness had become impacted and was now solid as a rock blocking the hole. In fear of the rising water and minimal effectiveness, I had to do something. It occurred to me to try and break up this solid grapefruit-sized mass, so I inserted a pencil into the middle to try and destabilize it. This seemed to work, and the third flush caused it to implode into itself, and this removed the majority of the waste. A fourth flush would clean it out. Subsequent brushing was necessary. Remarkably, the dookie dissipated, and I turned to wipe and found nothing. A pure, solid, hearty deuce dropped without a stain. I cleaned my inner leg and then slept like an infant.