I hadn't shat for literally 3 days, and I was about to blow. I was at work and had been drinking a lot of coffee. Thus, the already jam packed masses of KAKA were loosening and looking for escape as the coffee induced the production of yet more runny kaka. Sitting at my chair, my balloon knot began to wink, and I knew Flume Gorge was about to erupt with an unprecedented volley of brown gold.

I ran into the bathroom, and as I was sitting down poop rocketed out of my arse and into the toilet. In basketball terms, it was a "swish." More followed as I descended my buttocks onto the throne. There was too much burning for a straight man to handle as the magma-like crap exited. And, as usual, where there is a burning BM, there is always some of the worst smelling odor on the planet -- odor you can taste if you breathe in through you mouth.

After a solid five minutes of BM bliss, the troops were out and I was ready to wipe and get back to work. After wiping and pulling myself together, I pulled up my britches and prepared to flush my fecal fugitives into the East River. To my horror and surprise, the toilet wouldn't flush. Low droning noises emanated from the clandestine pipery. This told me there was trouble. In a panic, I ran into the next stall to check if it flushed. Nothing. I tried to run the water in the sink. Nothing. The plumbing had officially 'shit' the bed. Nervously and with unwashed hands, I left the lavatory and returned to my desk.

One hour later, I went back into the bathroom to see if the plumbing had been fixed. I thought that perhaps it had come back on and some brave hero, after making the grim discovery of my deposit, flushed for me. Well, the plumbing was back on, but my stool was still there, festering and tainting the atmosphere all the way into the hallway. What were once semi solid logs were now nothing more than brown pulp covering the entire toilet. And with that, I flushed my now melted friends away into an uncertain future.
-- Jeff [1]