I work on the second level of a three-story building. With about forty people in our company, we have the whole floor to ourselves. Unfortunately, the women's bathroom only has two stalls in it, and all of the chicks I work with are girly girls. Outside of my home and close friends and family, I am a Shameful Shitter. I was doing well with this until I switched jobs and took one look at my female co-workers. I would not be sharing any fun poop stories with these chicks.

I eat a lot of fiber and am rewarded with monstrous, poophoria-inducing poops. Luckily our cramped office bathrooms have super flush toilets that blast them to hell every single time, so I never have to worry about further shame from a clogged toilet. But there is a drawback to these wonderful poops: limited warning. At best, I get ten minutes to schedule a trip. At worst, I get two.

I was overloaded with work one day when I got my two-minute warning. I stretched the two minutes into five, but when I got the "I said NOW!" I all but ran to the bathroom. But someone was in there, so I performed a stealthy retreat.

I tried to go back to work, but I couldn't concentrate. I saw a chick come back in the office, so I hurried back out into the hall and almost kicked open the door, only to find another chick from the other side of the office in there.

I was torn with indecision. I could go in anyway, but I knew my colon would sooner explode than let loose with someone in the stall next to me. So I turned around and started to head back toward my cube. But when I passed the door for the stairs, I hit the brakes. "Screw this!" I said to myself, and ran down the stairs to the first floor bathroom. I'd never used it before, but at least I wouldn't know anyone else who might be using it.

I burst through the door and into the first stall I could get to. No one was in there. Fate was on my side. I let loose before my cheeks even met the seat. Barely fifteen seconds passed and I was done. I felt better, but cheated. All that trauma for nothing?

When I stood up and viewed the monster I had unleashed upon the world, a pride-filled smile spread across my face. I would have taken a picture with my camera phone, but I'd left it at my desk. This baby was over a foot long and probably two-and-a-half inches across. I'd never seen anything so beautiful. I almost hated to say good-bye, but I had work to get back to work.

So I waved and pressed the flusher. But these were not the super blaster toilets from upstairs. I held my breath. The water started to move -- and then my turd violated that poor, wretched excuse for a toilet.

I looked to the left and there was a plunger. At first I was relieved. But then I was angry -- I should have known that any public toilet that has a plunger primed and ready to go will never be able to take on one of my poops.

I grabbed that thing and plunged my heart out as the water nearly crested the rim. I must have flushed four times, making almost no progress. I thought to myself, "While this is bad, at least no one has come in." And then I heard a heavenly 3-2-1 countdown, and then the laughter of the gods boomed down at me: the door creaked open and someone entered the stall next to mine.

I couldn't plunge with someone in the next stall -- they would know what happened, and I might be identified. I set aside the plunger, gave it one final, hopeless flush, and tore ass out of the bathroom without even washing my hands. One phrase went through my head as I suppressed hysterical laughter and ran upstairs: "Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"