For over a month I had suffered from horrid constipation. Not huge, ass-tearing logs, but hard little marbles. They always took forever to come out and made little plooping sounds when they fell in the bowl.
Well, that all changed a few days ago. At the time I discovered that I had run the battery down on my cell phone, so I had to plug it in before I made a call to my mother. This stranded me on a folding chair, pressed against the living room wall near the only free electrical outlet in the house. And that outlet was miles from the bathroom.
We started blabbering about my upcoming move to Florida and all the reasons why I couldn't stand the cold, wet, and dark anymore. As she broke into one of her long speeches about doing what's right, I started feeling a tremor deep in my bowels.
At first I tried to ignore the restless turd, but it was getting insistent. I looked helplessly toward the hall. Grumbling at myself for not keeping track of my phone battery, I reminded myself that I would've been able to take the phone into the bathroom with me if only I had paid attention.
"...don't want to lose money on this move," blabbered Mom. "But you're right, things are a lot cheaper there than out here. Except hurricane insurance..."
"Uh, Mom," I said, desperately. "I'll be right back. I have to take care of something."
What was I supposed to tell her? Mom, I have to take a huge shit? Could you hold on?
I put the phone down and bolted to the bathroom before she could answer. Sighing, I dropped onto the toilet to let loose. (I spend a lot of time at home in the nude, so I didn't have to undo pants or anything.) As I began to push, I realized something was wrong. This was not my usual volley of rabbit pellets.
In my haste I had left the bathroom door open. Naturally my dog Reedy came in and started licking my face. Cats twined through my legs, their loving purrs echoing off the bathroom tile. There I sat in the middle, pushing with all my might.
"Go away," I ordered through clenched teeth. Of course the animals did exactly what any self-respecting pet would do in this situation: they completely ignored me. Blue Mew went behind the toilet to inspect my stubborn behind.
Suddenly my anus started opening. And opening. And opening. After a month of nothing, my infamous giant turds had returned. But by now I was not used to them anymore. My butthole had contracted back to normal size over the last thirty days. The only way to bring it back up to size was to stretch it.
The turd crowned and painfully inched its way out. My asshole reached its limits. Stretching pain was replaced by incessant burning. At this point my shit got cold feet and stopped dead. It didn't go forward. Or backward. The fucking thing just sat there, burning and pulsating.
This was the point of no return. I had to grit my teeth and push it out no matter how much it was going to hurt. Clenching my teeth, I gave a loud heave. All it did was burn worse. My imagination went crazy and I pictured my dear asshole being torn apart.
"Ow," I moaned. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!"
No matter how hard I pushed, this log decidedly wasn't going anywhere.
"Get out, God damn it!" I shouted. "Get out of my ass!"
Turds have no ears. This monster was no exception. It just stuck in there, staring at its watery grave below, mocking and tormenting me. My anus and I screamed bloody murder.
"Damn fucking shit," I screamed. "That's it!"
I could handle it no more. Cursing and grumbling, I grabbed a handful of toilet paper and coated my hand. Then I went spelunking. I pulled out a good handful of shit scrapings. But there was still more surprises awaiting me inside.
"Gross!" I whined. I always swore I'd never go digging for it. Never, never, never! Yet here I was with a handful of shit. Shuddering, I dropped it into the bowl, along with my toilet paper hand wrapper.
Thankfully the burning stretch was gone. I was surprised to find no blood on the toilet paper.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed again. A huge brown knob again stretched my anus to its limits. I felt it scraping the edges of my bowel as it headed for its final destination.
Pop! The knobby part exited my bung. It was smooth sailing from there on. "Ah," I breathed.
By now the animals had all run in fear of my thunderous cussing. All but Blue Mew. He waited expectantly beside the bowl. I wiped again. Still no blood. This was the one time I relented and became a sitting wiper. My legs and back were too tired from pushing.
I cautiously rose off the bowl, my anus aching and throbbing. Wisely, I looked before I even considered flushing my leavings. A huge red racing stripe ran down the side of this monster. The front half of it was two times bigger than its comet-tail back. There was no way this behemoth was going to flush.
Damn! And me without my poo chopper.
Blue Mew put his paws up on the toilet seat and peered into the bowl to see what was so special. Shoving him aside, I closed the lid and went back to the phone. The timer on its little screen told me I had been gone twenty minutes. Surprisingly, Mom had waited that whole time.
"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned. "You sounded like you were in pain."
"Ah, well, I had... a problem. It's okay now."
"Constipation?"
Now how did she know that? Normally these cell phones don't pick up any sound more than five feet away. Somehow the damn thing had picked up the whole dialogue between me and my poop. Damn it!
Mom laughed. Finally she had a poop story to hold over MY head. I shouldn't have laughed so hard when she shit her bed this summer. Karma sucks!
After our conversation I went into the backyard. I had to find a poo chopper for this monsturd. By now it was dark. The pathetic backyard light did nothing to cast illumination on the fire pit, where I groped blindly for a good piece of firewood for the toilet. Finally I found one that would be suitable and ran back inside, praying that I wouldn't step on dog logs in the process.
Well, I chopped that sucker four times. I'm surprised it didn't scream like the horrible banshee it was. After four murderous swipes it still didn't look flushable, but I had to take the chance.
When I lived with my parents I would have flushed and ran. "Clog? What clog?" I would have said. However, this was my first house, and I wasn't about to fill it with poop water. So I made myself stand there, biting my lip while my turd spun like a tornado and finally went down.
Fortunately there were no returns. My monster disappeared with a massive death gurgle. Except for a few brown streaks on the porcelain, it was finally gone. Sighing with relief, I went to bed. My asshole still throbbed the next morning, reminding me of the terrible ordeal.
