After driving what seemed like forever we finally got there. There was about ten minutes 'til tip-off and I had to shit. I always shit before a game -- it's my pre-game ritual. I went in; there was one toilet and one urinal, with nothing separating them. This really didn't bother me, so I proceeded to take my pre-game poop.
As the day wore on, I felt no urge to return to the bathroom. Not too surprising, I thought, because I had taken a pretty big one when I got there.
Soon the tournament was over. We got third place. Suddenly, I felt the urge. I rushed to the bathroom only to discover that over the course of a day the venue's only toilet had become an object of filth. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty liberal about restroom cleanliness -- but this was too much. There was no way in hell I'd use that toilet for fear of herpes or something.
There was only one thing to do: there was a McDonalds about ten miles from the school where the tournament was held. If I could hold it twenty or twenty-five minutes, I'd be home free.
We got in the car and drove. It felt like we were going two miles per hour. I was sweating, there was a sharp pain in my stomach, and I didn't think I'd make it. Finally we got to the McDonalds. I rushed to the bathroom, butt muscles clenched. I made it just in time -- as soon as my ass hit the seat, I released my demon. It shot out my ass like a missile from an F-15. But surprisingly, it made very little splash.
"Must be the angle at which it hit," I thought. I stood up expecting to see a gigantic turd, and there it was... the dinkiest dook you've ever seen in your life. It was barely the size of one of those tiny Snickers bars they hand out on Halloween. I had just endured nearly a half-hour of intense pain over something that looked at best like a glorified Jolly Rancher.
When I emerged from the bathroom, my parents asked if I was all right. I said yes, and told them I had produced a three-foot snake.
-- Kung Poo [1]