Since I can remember, I had been a pretty regular shitter. Usually I shit late in the evening and that is it. Every day, like clockwork, seven o'clock would roll around and I'd saunter on over to my favorite room in the house and waste half an hour conversing with the commode. I'd grab my favorite copy of Cycle World, drift into fecal euphoria, and thirty to forty minutes later I'd have birthed a few brown monsters and all would be right in the world. Sure, I'd had a few bouts of the green apple splatters and even had a few shit-stained drawers. But those episodes, although very well documented [1] on PoopReport [2], are few and far between. Majority of the time, most of my travels to Sphinctertown have been easy and carefree.
Then I moved to a new house and my regularity went right out the fucken window. From fecal euphoria to the fourth level of hell went my digestive system. Days would go by without so much as a gurgle from my bottom end. I wasn't stressed out and I wasn't really eating all that much differently then before. There was no real reason for the distress of my bowels. I really didn't know how to deal with all this. So I asked Dave what I should do.
"Fiber, man... eat more fiber!"
Shit advice from the man behind PoopReport is something to think about. If anyone would know how to get my ass in gear, it would be Dave. I ran out to the local food store and grabbed up all the fiber-laden products that I could find. Grape Nuts, Nutragrain bars, granola bars -- ANYTHING that had the word fiber on it, I bought.
In case you hadn't realized, I tend to go overboard on things sometimes. It has in the past lead to dire situations; and in this case, it would indeed lead to a dire shituation.
Day one consisted of me wacking down a bowl of Grape Nuts in the AM, a few strawberry Nutrigrain bars throughout the day, and following it up with two veggie burgers for dinner. All in all, not a bad day of eating. All very healthy and all full of fiber. I thought I was doing well -- until 11:00 PM rolled around.
At around eleven, my stomach began to make sounds like it was hungry. I still felt quite full, so I didn't get up to get any food. I just quietly sipped my iced-tea and slipped into a Discovery Channel coma. At just about the time one of the Mythbusters was about to blow something up, I sprung out of bed with an immense pain in my gut. A mighty battle was being fought in my ass. No prisoners would be taken! All that fiber had amassed to build a Trojan horse to batter my bung!
I sat for a few seconds to catch my breath. The pain of these cramps was so immense it literally took my breath away. I ran down the hall to the unoccupied bathroom and threw my sweaty ass down on the can.
What I am about to describe to you all, fellow PoopReporters, is probably one of the most massive dumps of my life. I swear to you, time literally stood still as this event took place. I made a mental note of the time as I entered the bathroom just to be sure of it. I knew, since I hadn't shat in nearly five days, that this would be the granddaddy of all poops. It would be a poop to end all poops. It would be a poop of monumental proportion.
As I laid my puckering o-ring down on the cold plastic toilet seat, I knew what was about to happen. It was as if I had entered a time warp -- all time was standing completely still at this exact moment. The immense pains in my guts instantly subsided and all was silent. My dirt chute ceased its puckering and began to swell epically. Something big was about to happen -- and I was just along for the ride. All there was for me to do was grab on to the sink and the toilet paper holder and pray that I wouldn't die during the event.
From my ass slid what I can only describe as a being. It was not a log, nor was it a turd. It was a life form in itself. It had a soul.
I rose from my now debauched thrown and looked deep into the bowl at my creation. It stared back at me. It was as if we were communicating telepathically. I felt its thoughts, and it knew mine.
We stared at each other for some time. We both knew that this being was not of this world, and its time here was limited.
Out of respect, I flushed my creation alone -- I would not soil this masterpiece with defiled toilet paper. It swirled and swirled and down to its watery grave it went... well, half of it went. I had to give it a second flush to get the whole thing down.
All that was needed was one solitary wipe. And with this wipe came no residue. NO RESIDUE! I wiped a second time just as precaution -- and again, NOTHING! What I had thought was indeed true. I had just been witness to the legendary ghost poop.
I finished up and washed my hands. As I walked back to my room, I noted that not a single minute had elapsed on the clock. Time had literally stood still for this event.
I am forever changed at how I look at my grogans. This was the first visit from the ghost poop; but hopefully it would not be the last.
