This poop report deals with a series of incidents that occurred the first of two summers I worked at a snobby day camp. Now, this was no ordinary day camp -- if you're from northern New Jersey, you may have a good idea of the type of camp I worked at. All the children were completely and irreversibly spoiled; all of their parents were overprotective and smothering; and, generally, all of the counselors were college-aged alcoholics.

The camp had three separate pools: two upper heated pools (both with slides) and a lower pool with a diving board. Being a hung-over college student, I loathed having to go in the pool at all, much less the unheated pool at eight AM to help my sniveling eight-year-olds learn to swim or hone their swimming abilities. But most days I'd end up in the pool anyway, because there were some fine lifeguards; and ladies, we men will do anything for a nice body. As camp progressed, I did get used to the pool -- until we got to roughly the third week, when something strange started to occur.

Someone -- some kid, it was presumed -- was leaving floaters in the damn pool. Not little ones, either, and not one at a time. The first time it occurred, it was in the lower pool in the morning. I didn't personally witness it; but from what I was told, these were serious adult-size turds -- two of 'em -- hanging out in the deep end like battleships looking for Russian subs.

This was a relief to me, because it meant I had no pool duty that day -- I wouldn't have to get wet or try to deal with twenty pairs of hands all grasping for me and trying to drag me under.

Indeed, at first it was just a laugh and a lark, and we all discussed it at a party. We wondered at how the kid had snuck his or her brown barbarians through the gates, out of his or her swimming suit, and left them in the pool undetected. At that time, we had all assumed it was a one-time occurrence. Life went on as normal. I shivered and mentally cursed at the kids as always -- until, less then a week later, it happened again.

This time, it was one long brown puppy that I witnessed with my own eyes. I thought there was no way this could have come from a kid. I mean, it's not like we didn't have an ample supply of bathrooms for the kids to use, both flushable and of the "porta" variety. If they were really desperate for privacy, they could have gotten into the woods. We had some really shit counselors there.

By the second time around, the pool staff was beginning to get pissed. There are bathrooms right there at the pool to prevent such accidents, number one; and, number two (haha -- sorry), every time this occurred they had to pump out the entire pool, refill it, and shock the water. This usually meant they were down a pool for about a day.

These were the real deal, too. This wasn't a Caddyshack-esque [1] prank -- if it was, all the lifeguards would have been giggling, not gagging.

There were a few more instances like this, but they were all relatively tame. But I really need to get to the point of this story: the real horrific carnage that burned that summer into my mind.

When the final incident occurred, camp was coming to a close, and we were just a few days away from the end. It had been assumed that we would never find Shitty the Kid. Up until the final incident, the key to the kid's success had been the unrelenting solid nature of the turds. Most were brown bobbers, but there had even been a few corn-infested submarines. The point is that they were solid -- and, hence, able to leave the clothes in one fluid motion.

Who knows what her undoing was? Maybe something didn't agree with her. Yes, I said "her." It was discovered that the perpetrator was a little girl -- a filthy, vile little girl that no one liked. Maybe this was turd terrorism.

The final incident occurred when she had diarrhea in the pool. That's right -- full-blown squirts in the pool. That sight is more disgusting than you can possibly imagine. You see it sitting there, mellow and just hanging out. You don't really realize how, well, how fluid and aggressive it can be. She left the pool and ran out, leaving a cloud of her noxious mess in the pool and a trail behind her as she apparently attempted to get to a bathroom.

But the damage had been done. Oh, the humanity! New Jersey had not seen a tragedy like this since the Hindenburg. And that was just the beginning. The children started to scream in a pitch that I am sure can only be caused by public defecation. The female counselors joined in just as the mass vomiting ensued. A life of drinking every night and baking in the sun all day does not lead to a strong stomach. Many a gallon of bile was added to the sickening sludge that moments before had been the newest and best pool in camp.

The child was accused of the previous turd terrorism, but she did not own up to it. She was immediately picked up by her mortified mother, never to return again. She was expelled, and the camp attempted to get the family to pay for the decontamination of the pool. I'm not quite sure if that panned out or not.

A debate amongst the witnesses present that day still rages. Did the little girl simply have a bad day? Or was this a botched job by the actual Shitty the Kid? Were there multiple shitters, or just the one? We're rather certain a grassy knoll wasn't involved, but you can never be too sure. In any case, it's something I never wish to experience again.

I hope something has been gained by my sharing of this ordeal. Please people, for humanity's sake, please make sure your children don't confuse the pool for a gigantic commode.