[wonderpance]

Note: this is Sooper Dooper Pooper's story, removed from a front page comment and posted here.

The Dinner That Went… To Poop!

So now, finally - after several weeks, I am able to write down my recollections on paper. Just realize that I had been humiliated to the point of putting this little episode practically out of my mind entirely! “What is he babbling about?” you are probably wondering. Well, read on if you dare, and find out.

It all started after I met a friend of a friend. She was something special, I thought, from the very start. I consider myself a fairly plain and ordinary guy, she was surely a bit out of my league – that was my initial evaluation of the situation. But like, well, there was a “click” that went off in my brain that said “I like this person for all the right reasons, and she seems to like me too”, so I’ll ask her to dinner some time. Who knows, maybe she is not stuck up? And as it turned out, she was not. Boy, what a rarity these days. I could hardly believe it.

By the way, the person I am talking about is a hard-working, very attractive, and bright gal named Denise. She is tall, with flowing hair, kindly eyes, and a wonderfully sweet smile. Her voice is like the song of an angel – and her touch, so delicate and sublime. I play the cello in an amateur string quartet in town, and her figure certainly mimicked that instrument’s shape. So, she was definitely someone that the average guy would want to befriend. I was so fortunate to have met her, I realized. And, I figured that we had a few things in common based upon several brief conversations. So one day, I actually got up the nerve to invite her out to dinner. And she accepted without hesitation! Man, was I a happy camper. All I wanted to do was make her feel like the most special person in the universe for that night as my guest at dinner, and treat her as if she was made of pure gold.

Dinner, dinner – in actuality, the thought of it started to make me nervous, especially as the day we agreed upon approached. Why? It’s not that I am gay or anything, or don’t like the opposite gender – I do. In fact, some of my best pals are female, and we have wonderful friendships. But as this dinner thing approached, I didn’t want to go through with it. It’s just that… well, I’d had a bout with intestinal flu just recently, and food was still a bit unsettling to my system. I did not wish to possibly transform from a happy camper to an unhappy crapper, you see.

So I was torn; on the one hand, I would sure not want to pass up any opportunity to spend quality time with someone as nice as Denise. There was so much I wanted to discuss, and also enjoy her laughter and her “aura”. But on the other hand, what if I got sick during dinner? That would ruin everything. BUT, I was determined to go through with it after all, and when that special Tuesday rolled around, I got off work, and headed home to get ready to meet Denise at Fezzywig’s, a hip sort of hangout for younger professionals, students, and so forth.

And so, I arrived at the restaurant first. I surveyed the landscape, and saw the typical arrangement of seated couples and groups of people, with servers passing back and forth taking orders. A moose head and 10-point buck hung on the wall. Nothing special. That is, until Denise arrived. She was quite the ticket, in her black jacket and slacks. I could only stare and blurt out, “Hi Denise!” I noticed her eyes again, so kindly and sweet, looking like the proverbial “two limpid pools”. And her hair adorned her like a priceless fur. When she pursed her lips to speak, saying simply, “Hi there, Sam”, she cast her decidedly feline gaze in my direction – and I became a melted stick of butter sitting across from her in my chair.

Now mind you, this was an enjoyable and mutually respectful friendship in the making that seemed to suit her lifestyle as much as it suited mine. And so we were very comfortable sitting there together and making small town small talk. That is, until the energizer bunny in my colon started perpetual motion gyrations. Crap! Not at all what I needed to have happen on this special evening. Here I was with Denise - why couldn't my bowels do the jitterbug some other day!

At first, I tried to ignore the undulations of pain and heaving anticipation that I was experiencing. I even tried to rock gently from side to side in my chair to ease the discomfort, hoping that Denise would take my swaying as a sign that I enjoyed her company. It seemed to work, because she winked at me and leaned forward with her cheek so that I could either touch or kiss it gently. And as much as I wanted to, and believe me I wanted to, I could not lean forward and do so. This was because with every passing nanosecond, my innards were whipping into a bigger and bigger gastrointestinal frenzy. So, my hands were clenched beneath the table into fists of fear, and my face I am sure was contorted into a semi-snarl, as I leaned back in my seat uncomfortably. I could feel myself beginning to sweat. It, whatever it was, was coming to a head, and I knew it. What should I do?

Well, I didn’t have time to think much about strategy, because all of a sudden, my ass blew out a juicy low B-flat sound for about fifteen seconds. Everyone in Fezzywig’s must have heard it! It sputtered and grew rudely loud in dynamics, like an old pick-up truck with no mufflers, only to flutter and recede finally into inaudibility. But the damage had been done. Not only had Denise heard it, but I could tell by the furrowing of her brow and twitching of her nostrils that she also had smelled it! And what an odor. If I had to describe it, I would liken that odor to a combination of five day-old dead and rotting frogs, pig farts, and racoon vomit (sorry!). This was just unbearable, and made me gag. I jumped up from my seat with the intention of finding the restroom, although I knew that there would be no rest in there for me once I got to a stall!

Poor Denise was practically knocked down by me (and the stench) as I sprang up. She looked on with a mixture of fear and weariness as I lurched toward the opposite end of the eating establishment. In retrospect, everything seemed to move in slow motion at this point. I saw Denise sit down and look to the floor, holding her head in her hands – in slow motion. I passed a couple in a booth, looking at me as if I were the Hunchback of Notre Dame, come to terrorize their village and children – again in slow motion. I passed the guy behind the bar, who stepped back several feet as I hustled past, with an incredible expression on his face – moving slowly, as if he were on the moon and weightless. And, oh yes – the moose and the buck seemed to be snorting and frowning their disgust down at me from above.

But everything sped up as soon as I reached the men’s room. To be honest, my eyes were watering so badly, I actually pushed my way into the lady’s room by mistake – only to hurry out when I spied a gal pulling down her panties as she staggered into a stall! Fortunately that was the only person around, so I made my way across the hall to the men’s room, where I had my choice of pristine stalls. I collapsed on the first available commode, and started to moan, “Oh, holy crap!”

Just then, someone came in. I could see his shoes, and had the distinct impression that he was noticing my dilemma, and enjoying it! Well, apparently he had heard my previous utterance too. I say this because this guy was now actually taking the trouble to taunt me during my turdy trials! He started to sing, in an overdone operatic voice, “Oh, holy crap…” to the tune of “Oh holy night”! I felt for certain that the Creator would surely strike him dead for such blasphemy, but the guy just kept on with it, becoming more and more silly and ridiculous by the second. After a few more seconds, it also sounded as if this joker was yodeling: "yodel-odel-poo-pee-doo!”

“SHUT-UP!” I roared, and let loose with a torrent of splashy fecal matter. It sounded like a small bomb had exploded in my stall. Well, at least this should get him to stop. Sure enough, he ran out as fast as a jack rabbit. Who wouldn’t! I had dropped so many stinky tootsie rolls by then, that the stall had residual ricochet flecks of my forcefully propelled excrement on the walls as well as on the seat and floor. But before you could say, “crap-on-a-stick”, ALL ANAL HELL broke loose. If you can imagine a mixture of buffalo poop, oatmeal, chocolate pudding, and chunks of spam, all mixed into a 3-inch diameter, four-foot long PVC pipe, with someone standing over it with a pushrod and forcing the mixture through the bottom opening in one continuous thrust – you have some idea of what I experienced as the last volume of evil excrement left my bowels. I fell to the floor, utterly spent, yet relieved - and reached for the toilet paper.

“You’ll need more than toilet paper to clean up after that shit fest!” came the words from none other than dear Denise, who was now standing over me in the men’s room at that moment! I slipped as I scrambled to stand, wash, and clean up, fearing greatly that my shitty little episode would permanently sour our budding relationship. “Oh don’t worry Sam”, she offered, rather matter-of-factly. “I just left a trail of poop myself from our table to the ladies room. I guess we both are suffering from the same malady.” What a nice gesture! All I could think to say at this point was, “No shit?” And so we both washed, and left the restroom, and restaurant, walking arm in arm into the golden Texas sunset, in our brown-stained clothing.

[robocrap13]

So... I guess the question on everybody's minds is "Did they live Crappily Ever After"?

[chaos321]

Holy shit!! I'm going to have abs of steel after reading through the forums and the poop report. I haven't laughed so much in my life! I love it!!