The problem was, I left the car running. When I woke up in the morning, my keys were in the on position, but my car wasn't on. I had run out of gas.
So, I had to walk to a gas station. I was still half drunk from the night before. As I was walking, I became more and more uncomfortable. I had to pee like crazy -- but worst of all, the fact that I had to take a massive shit was becoming more and more apparent.
It became clear that I wasn't going to make it to the gas station. I was either going to have to take a dump somewhere fast, or shit my pants.
It was early in the morning on a Sunday, and I was in a residential area. I had to go so bad I was almost crying. I went between two houses, hoping everyone was still asleep. I had barely pulled my pants down over my ass when a soft, creamy load started pouring out. I quickly tried to get my pants down as far as I could and squatted.
After the initial load, my piss started coming out in a torrent. You can imagine, after a night of drinking, I had a pretty full bladder. It sounded like a fire hose gushing in the grass, splattering over my soft load of poo.
Unfortunately, even after all that, I knew I wasn't finished. I still had to shit some more, but it was going to take some work to force it out.
I was a mess -- here I was, squatting over a pile of soft, smelly poo, over which I drained a keg of pee. Suddenly, I heard a voice. "Are you okay?"
Jesus, there was a kid in the house that I was squatting next to! Talking to me through the window!
"Yes," I whispered, "I was walking by your house and had to go poop. I couldn't wait." I was scared to death that I had woken the neighborhood. I kept whispering to this kid that I was sorry. But then I got up my nerve and asked if they had any toilet paper I could use. He said yes, he would bring some out.
While he was doing that, I madly started trying to force out the last of my bowel movement. This was a solid turd, wide and stubborn. As I was pushing it out, here comes this kid, maybe 7 or 8 years old, in his pajamas, with a roll of toilet paper. "Thank you," I whispered, thinking that this kid was going to need therapy after seeing this.
I forced out the last turd with a plop onto the wet pile of goo on the ground underneath me. I took the toilet paper from the boy and started cleaning myself up. I was disgusting. That kid got the show of a lifetime, but I didn't care.
I must have apologized a million times to the kid while I was wiping myself off. He didn't say a word, just watched. I finally got cleaned up, pulled up my pants, and stood up. My legs were sore from squatting so long.
We took the dirty toilet paper to his garage and threw it in the garbage can. I gave him five dollars from my purse and thanked him again. I got the hell out of there, made it to the gas station, got gas for my car, and drove the hell home.
I've never gone back by that house since. Jesus, that kid was so sweet, but I bet he's scarred for life after seeing that.
-- Amanda