Editor's Note: This story originally appeared on mused [1], and is posted with the express written permission of the author. Hey, go ahead, give him a click.
This is a story from my odd childhood, and is quite sad and extremely embarrassing for me. This story
came up last night, while I was talking to my girly about strange childhood happenings. It made her
laugh and got me loads of sympathy, too.
I must have been about 7 years old. I was sitting in my class, legs crossed, desperate to go to the toilet for a poo. I raised my hand and asked the teacher if I could go, but she wouldn't let me. You see, I was a mischievous little bugger at school, and my teachers never believed what I said, and were always mad at me for something or another.
So, the pain is getting worse, and I'm having real problems holding the poo in. I ask several more times, which only annoys my teacher more. I try to eek out a little fart, but obviously follow through with a small amount of poo.
Oh dear, I simply don't know what to do. The other kids around me start to snigger because of my distressed look and the shitty smell starting to emanate from my pants. Eventually, after squirming in my own poop for about 5 minutes, the other kids are laughing and pointing and saying things like "pooey pants".
The smell is now quite obvious, and the teacher strides over to my desk and pulls me out in front of the entire class. I'm wearing little shorts, and I have a small dribble of brown poo running down, past me knee. I am then unceremoniously ejected from the class room, and instructed to go and clean myself up in the bathroom.
I run, but only make it halfway across the playground before I unload the rest of my brown cargo into my underwear. I get to the toilets, and try really hard to clean myself up. Remember, I'm only 7 years old, and quite upset. I have poo everywhere, on my legs, my hands, I have it on my shirt and in my hair. I eventually huddle in a corner, sobbing, covered pretty much from head to toe in my own excrement. So sad.
My teacher eventually come looking for me, and drags me off to the headmistresses office. I'm unceremoniously cleaned up (more like hosed down), by the school nurse, and all my shitty clothes are put into a plastic bag. I am naked. The headmistress gives me a huge pair of long-johns (stylish wintry underwear), and tells me to put them on. These things are bigger than me, so I'm standing there, with these white, wooly long-johns pulled up to my neck. Pretty bad stuff huh? Well, it gets worse, I'm afraid.
They then make me walk all the way home in these things, with the bag of foul-smelling, shitty clothes tied around my waste. It was horrible, and so many people in cars and walking were pointing and laughing at me. I eventually made it home, and let my self in (I was a latchkey kid). I was really scared what my mum would say, so I stuffed the bag of crapped on clothes under the sofa in the living room.
The clothes were quickly found of course, due to the smell. My mum went ballistic, until she heard
the whole sad story. I remember my Mum and Dad going to school and shouting at everyone, demanding
that the teacher be fired. I was ridiculed and teased, mercilessly for several months after.
-- Chigley from mused [2].