For Mother's Day, we invited Steve and his family over for a cookout. My wife made a quadruple batch of her wonderful baked beans. Steve and I wolfed down more than our share. By the time they were ready to go home, he and I were both farting pretty heavily, much to the dismay of our wives. Before I went to bed I had another big bowl of beans with a couple of hamburger patties crumbled up in them. My entire sleep was one big night of indigestion and gas.
The next day was our regularly--scheduled racquetball game. We both considered canceling, but decided the exercise would be good for us. We met and went to the faculty locker room.
The faculty locker room is in the old gym, which was built in the forties and hasn't been renovated much since. After getting dressed, we both headed for the bathroom to lighten our loads. All I did was let out a series of rank farts. Steve filled his bowl. He had to show me, so I went to his stall and saw one of the longest turds I've ever seen. (The toilet stalls have no doors.)
We went to the court and began to play. I was farting all over the place, and by now they were quite odorous. Steve claimed I was playing with an unfair advantage since the smell was messing up his play. I agreed to stop. After a while, I had built up quite a bit of gas, though; I had to let it out.
This was the mistake. I did my usual gyration, lifting one leg and pulling back with one arm. That was when it happened. Instead of a fart, I expelled a load of the nastiest, blackest semi--liquid sludge. (Did I mention I had eaten half a bag of Oreos? Hence the black shit.)
It could have been contained in my pants, but I'm old school when I play. I still wear a jock, and rather short shorts. A jock has no seat.
Slime was running down my legs and onto the floor. Steve was on the floor howling with laughter. The more he laughed, the more I laughed. Every time I would laugh, more Texas Tea rolled down my leg. I pulled my shorts and jock off and stood there naked from the waist down with shit all over me. I told him to go to the locker room and get me a bunch of towels. He came back ---- not just with towels, but with Sarge, the old locker room attendant. Sarge did not find it as funny as we did.
I finally got the floor cleaned up, wrapped a towel around my waist, and ran to the locker room. Unfortunately, I was not alone in the shower area. I entered covered in shit from the waist down. That drew the attention of other faculty in the shower. Steve explained the whole incident, in great detail and in glowing terms, as I washed. I'm sure that it will be all over campus by the afternoon.