A few years ago, I was up in the mountains with Vin. We had decided to go out to eat that night at this nice little Italian restaurant. We went in, we ordered food (which was very good), and we ate. About an hour later, we left for the twenty-to-thirty minute drive back to the cabin. This is when it hit.
After being in the car for roughly ten minutes, Vin said, "I have to go to the bathroom." I thought nothing of this, as Vin tends to have to go the bathroom right after eating most of the time.
Another ten minutes passed, and then Vin admitted concern about holding it, and told me to hurry. So, speeding up a little, we tried to rush back to the cabin. By this point Vin was sitting as still as possible and, I can only guess, holding the butt checks together in a vain attempt to keep from being zerged by the poo about to come out.
We finally arrived at the cabin. Before I even turned the car off, Vin was running to the door. I burst out laughing at this point, and laughed even harder as I saw Vin screaming and trying to get into the house.
(Before people call me cruel for laughing at Vin, know this: this is not something new. Vin does this constantly -- always having to poo, and always thinking the impossible, "I can hold it." But we both know that Vin cannot hold it, and has never been able to. Of course, there have been a few times when I have almost not made it, but at least I share the story and laugh at myself. Not Vin.)
Before Vin makes a human-sized hole in the door, it finally flings open. Off Vin goes into the bathroom.
Let's fast-forward an hour.
Vin finally came out of the bathroom and went downstairs. Little did I know that Vin went there to throw soiled pants into the washer.
Let's fast-forward another fifteen minutes after this. Lying on the couch, me on one end and Vin on the other, this is the conversation that followed:
Vin: "I smell something."
Me: "I don't smell anything."
Vin: "I swear I smell shit."
Me: (Laughingly) "Maybe you have some shit stuck to you."
Vin: "Maybe it's on your foot."
Me: (Sitting up to study my foot) "Oh my god! I have shit on the bottom of my foot!"
At this point, I could do nothing but double over with laughter. It seems that Vin had not made it to the bathroom, leaving little gifts on the floor -- and had never noticed. Vin was laughing with me as I went to wipe the poo off of my foot.
When I came back and picked up the blanket I had wrapped all around me, I noticed that it had poo on it, too.
I now watch where I step when Vin is rushing to the bathroom.
-- Clulu