I was working the overnight shift as a security guard in the middle of a Pennsylvania winter, alone that night out in a little guard-shack. I wouldn't be able to leave for lunch, so I ordered a pizza and Buffalo wings from Domino's before midnight. I ate it as soon as it arrived and figured I'd save half the food for the daytime. Since the pizza box wouldn't fit into the dorm-sized fridge, and it was a cold night, I stored my leftovers by the window. I got off work in the morning and took the rest of my grub home. I figured I'd eat it after getting some sleep.
Later that night I had a date lined up, so I got up in the late afternoon, ate some wings, and did the ol' shit, shower and shave in preparation for my hot date. As I was heading out the door, I felt a slight urge to crap, but dismissed it because I wouldn't be fresh for my date if I pooped and didn't take another shower.
I drove over to pick up my date for some dinner and drinks with my guts still acting up. As my guts got worse I started considering using the hopper at the chick's house, but then I thought to myself, "I can't just go stinking up her hopper before a date. That would turn her off. I'm a grown man. I can hold it until I get to the restaurant." So, off we went.
As soon as we sat down at dinner, I excused myself, telling her I wanted to go wash my hands for dinner. Eager to bust loose, I sat on the throne, but all the came out was a big, long fart, and my urge to crap was suddenly gone. I thought this was good news and that the whole ordeal was a false alarm.
After dinner we went over to a crowded bar with a live band. I was drinking a beer when that funny feeling started through my intestines again. So I downed my beer and headed into the bathroom.
It was a filthy, crowded bathroom. As I stood at the urinal, I figured I'd squeeze out another one of those farts that felt so good earlier. But this time, the fart was really hot and drippy -- and was working its way towards my sack. Shocked, I went into the dirty, pissed-on shitter and pulled down my pants... holy crap, I had just diarrhead on myself. I sat down and wiped my ass and inner thighs. I couldn't believe what had just happened.
My boxers were full of black, drippy crap, so I had to get them off. The door was broken and I needed to get my undies off, which meant I had to take off my shoes and jeans first. What if someone pushes the door open and sees me with no shoes, pants or underwear? Will they think I was some weirdo? Will they know I shit myself? I finally got my boxers off and threw them to the corner of the stall. I washed my hands and went back out to the bar. I got another beer and told her how crowded the bathroom was -- but something didn't feel right. I wondered if she could smell the shit on me.
Later, we went back to her place, but I wasn't gonna get lucky. If I still had my boxers, I could've gotten into her bed in my boxers and made some moves on her... but how do I just go from jeans to bare-ass without the boxers in-between? That would be a bold move. So I just took off my belt and slept on the couch with my jeans on.
-- CrapperJohn, MD