Anyway, due to reasons I will not divulge to you good readers of PoopReport, I found myself inside a state mental hospital in Austin, Texas. When I was admitted I came in with the clothes on my back, and nothing else. Needless to say they had some pretty bad food there, and it reacted with my intestines (or what's left of them) in a bad way.
So on the second day I was there, they over-medicated me (bastards!) and I fell asleep in my room with three other guys, one of whom is always chanting, "Goddamnit motherfucker! Goddamnit motherfucker!" What a nutjob. So I woke up and I immediately knew something wasn't right. I felt my ass... it was wet.
Remember now, I have NO clothes to change into and my family, who could bring me more clothes, could not come straight to the hospital because they were in another town one to two hours away.
The first thing I thought was FUCK! SHIT! DAMNIT! FUCK!
Yes, I swear often.
After that, the next thing I did was scream those same words. And after that, I tried to clean myself up. This helped a little, but not much because it was all wet and it went through my jeans. The best I could do was hide the stain by sitting often, wearing my long black t-shirt outside my jeans, and rubbing some hospital-issue deodorant in my drawers to mask the odor. I didn't throw them away because I didn't want to get the shit beat out of me and I definitely didn't want anybody collecting my shitty underwear as a trophy.
I did the best I could walking around with a wet ass. And then the time came for my physical exam... oh shit. Oddly enough, that came off well, and neither the female doctor nor the nurse said a thing, even when I took my pants off.
The story ends when my family brought me a set of clothes and underwear the next day -- yes, my friends, the next day. I snuck off and changed, washed, and waited for discharge. I got out three days later.
-- Brandon