Some of the recent stories have got me thinking about really bad times in my life that involved poop. I'm sure most people on this site have had an awful pooping experience, whether, like some of our posters, it be crapping your pants at school, or in front of the local authorities, or before your family members.

My particular worst poop was a private affair, but a traumatic experience nonetheless. It all started with two days of chili for dinner, fast food and frozen burritos for lunch, and a 24oz coffee for breakfast. Mexican Food + Coffee = Bad Idea.

On the second evening I was at a Wal-Mart, killing some time shopping between work and class. I was feeling pretty good until the urge hit me like a punch in the stomach from inside. And then the angry turd-prisoner that punched me began its desperate and treacherous escape out my ass.

I couldn't get to the bathroom quick enough. One minor problem: this was the first time I'd been in that particular Wal-Mart and I didn't have a clue where that the bathroom was. I'm sure y'all know what happened next -- yep, the prisoner couldn't wait until his scheduled release date. He had to attempt a jailbreak.

When I got to the bathroom I was greeted with sights and smells as yet unfamiliar to me. This poop reeked like baby poop -- but much, much stronger. And it was the consistency of cement. I could have taken it home and patched up the fucking sidewalk. I tried to clean up my soiled undies, but with that crappy Wal-Mart toilet paper I couldn't do a great job. And then it came time to wipe my ass.

Has anyone ever spackled over drywall? Well, it was a bit like that. It didn't come off -- it just smeared around and dried up. With spackle, that's the object; unfortunately, it was not so with my ass. I tried my damnedest and at least got the large chunks off. In the process, my fecal cement was smeared all over the toilet and a few chunks were encrusted onto my hands (bleeech). This was the most foul, disgusting, degrading thing that had ever come out of my ass.

About the only humor I got out of this was when a couple of Wal-Mart employees came into the bathroom on break. They didn't enjoy the smell in that bathroom too much.

"Yuck!" one of them said. "This bathroom is always fucking disgusting!" Her colleagues agreed and bitched about how the bathroom always smelled and never got cleaned. If they only knew what was about to be left behind. I chuckled silently at their misfortune... I was an unwilling Turd Terrorist that day.

By now, all the remaining shit on my underwear and body had solidified and couldn't be removed by anything short of sandpaper. I was 20 miles from home, with class in 20 minutes (which for some reason or another I felt I couldn't miss) and I had to come up with a solution fast. I figured I could replace my underwear with a new pair I'd buy at the Wal-Mart. But I wasn't about to rub my ass with their sandpaper.

"Wet wipes!" my brain and ass cried in unison. (All you wet-wipe opponents [1], I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT!) So I cleaned up what I could of the toilet, which wasn't much -- skidmarks and dried encrusted shit were everywhere. I washed my hands thoroughly and bought a pack of underwear and a box of wet wipes.

Now my problem was, where do I finish the cleanup job? I couldn't very well show my face in the Wal-Mart bathroom again with what I had just left in there. I worried that I might get arrested. (Not really, but I just couldn't face the shame.)

Shit. Where else could I go to the bathroom? I wasn't going to do it at college; what if one of my classmates figured out what I was up to? Then the answer hit me: Burger King. It was in the very same shopping center. I drove over there and ducked into the bathroom. I changed my undies and scrubbed with about 20 wet wipes. Operation Clean Cheeks was a success. Anything left now could wait until I got home for a shower. I scrubbed my hands again and got to class.

In class that night, no one suspected that I had just been through such an ordeal. I resolved never to spend two straight days eating bean-based foods again.

-- Assblaster2000 [2]

Epilogue: I have not crapped myself since I was a child, yet two months later, I crapped myself at that Wal-Mart again. That place is cursed. If you're ever traveling along Nazareth Pike in Bethlehem, PA, don't stop at Wal-Mart. Just keep going, or shop instead at the K-Mart across the street.