Dakota says:

This morning I went for a jog. As I was leaving the apartment complex, I caught up with another young dude, Brad, who also lives there and also jogs regularly. We decided to jog together.

It was a great morning -- cool, but not cold. After about forty minutes, I could feel the urge to take a shit coming on. I'd tried to dump before leaving, but no luck. Just about then Brad says to me: "Hey, mind if we jog through the park? I've gotta go take a shit." I told him: "Me too."

So we jogged over to the park restroom. When I got into the first stall, I checked as always for toilet paper -- but there wasn't any. I guess we got there earlier than the janitor makes his rounds. I was just about to ask Brad to pass me some TP when I heard him cussing about there being "no fucking toilet paper." He said that he guessed he would just jog back to the apartment since he needed to shit real bad. It was then that I got my "brainwave."

I remembered that there was a payphone attached to one wall of the restroom on the outside, and that there had been a telephone book attached by a chain when I'd last looked. I mentioned it to Brad and he said that it would work for him since he didn't want to break his jog. So we each grabbed a few sheets of telephone book pages and went to take a dump in the two adjacent stalls.

We both unloaded our dumps about the same time and started wiping. Brad got done before me and I heard him flush. As luck would have it, I'd had a few beers the night before and my shit was kinda loose -- I didn't realize what a lousy substitute telephone book pages are for toilet paper. It is completely non-absorbent, so you need a lot of wiping. And even though I doubled up the pages, they still broke so I got shit on my fingers.

When Brad walked by my stall (they're doorless there), I told him I needed more paper. So he went out and came back with a few more sheets from the telephone book and I got done eventually, after a fashion. We spent about another hour jogging and I took a shower immediately upon getting back to the apartment. My crack was still shitty -- the telephone book pages hadn't really done the job, but they sure helped in my shitting emergency. I just hope that no one has to look up a number in the pages marked K-L or R-S though!

Brown Streak says:

Dakota's story reminded me of a similar experience I had a few years ago. I was driving a rental truck from the East Coast to Texas. For some reason, when I was at the supermarket loading up on snacks for the road trip, the Jalapeño-flavored potato chips looked good, so I bought a couple of bags. Since I was trying to make good time on the road, I didn't often stop for food and, instead ate the snacks I bought.

Driving through southern Maryland, after consuming about a bag of the Jalapeño potato chips, I started to feel a familiar intestinal rumbling that was becoming more urgent by the moment. Like most East Coast highways, this one was surrounded by trees on both sides, with no evidence of civilization beyond, and since I had already passed the nearest highway service area, I clenched my asscheeks and hoped I would find somewhere to obtain needed relief.

After a couple of miles, I spotted a highway exit with a blue sign indicating there was a Wendy's there. Usually, fast food restaurants are reasonable places to shit when on the road. So I hurriedly parked the truck and ran into the Wendy's, where someone was just finishing up in the only stall. I entered and raced to drop my pants before the hot brown stream shot from my ass. After my intestines settled down, I decided it was time to wipe up and leave -- but guess what, NO FUCKING TOILET PAPER!

I weighed my options. I was alone in the restroom and they probably didn't have paper towels -- most fast food restaurants always have those fucking hand dryers. I decided the best option was to go back into the restaurant and get some napkins, so I pulled up my pants, went into the "dining room," grabbed a stack of napkins and went back into the crapper to wipe up. Needless to say, my underwear was trashed, and after leaving I went into the back of the U-haul and changed.

I learned 3 things from this experience: (1) if I have to shit real bad and I'm at a place that is likely to be out of toilet paper, like a bar or fast food restaurant, to grab some napkins just in case; (2) Wendy's napkins are neither soft nor absorbent; and (3) don't eat Jalapeño potato chips!