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 Take-Out Wake-UpPosted 06.26.2006 by bowlfiller (54)
This is a simple story of pleasure, pain, and relief. It occurred just a few weeks ago, and I'm finding the memory of it hard to escape from.
It was a Friday evening, same as many other Friday evenings. I was at home watching some TV with my girlfriend and housemates. Several beers had been drunk and we'd been smoking for some hours, so we were in a state of extreme hunger. But we lacked the will to move. After much persuasion, I managed to find the energy to walk over to the bookshelf and bring over the pile of takeaway menus. Not a monumental task, with the menus only being five steps away; but at that moment, it sure felt monumental. We seem to get one or two menus posted through our door every day, so we had a great variety to choose from. We decided on pizza with a few sides and ordered from a place we'd frequented quite a few times before, having always been impressed with the quality and price. Our order: a pizza topped with spicy chicken, pepperoni, and spicy meat; a twelve-inch garlic bread with cheese; and an order of spicy hot wings. Having placed the order, we had time to kill; so, as usual, the topic turned to shit. My housemate Gavin and I talk about shit a lot, much to the disgust of my girlfriend and our female housemates. But we think like this: "Instead of talking shit, why not just talk about shit -- literally?" So, instead of making uninteresting small talk, we often turn to the subject of our daily triumphs in the bathroom. (This is also the reason we found this great website -- we come up with what we think are new ways to describe our masterpieces, but discover, often enough, that when typed into a search engine they can already be found in places like this.) Moving on, the doorbell rang. Some of you know that instant burst of energy you get, whatever condition you're in, when hot, tasty food has just arrived at your doorstep. I rushed to the door with some cash, hurriedly paid the delivery guy, and made my way back to the living room with a feast for my friends and me. The food tasted good. I'm a fan of spicy foods, and the chicken wings and spicy meats on the pizza didn't disappoint. I did notice a slight tang to some of the chicken on the pizza, but being in the condition I was in, it didn't stop me from polishing off several slices, along with wings, garlic bread, and a few more beers. The night drew on, and my girlfriend and I headed off to bed. I was pretty beat and began drifting as soon as my head hit the pillow, despite several minutes of attempts by my girlfriend to get some attention from me. I was not in the proper state to perform any duties, so I continued ignoring her and fell fast asleep. (Who says women control sex in a relationship?) I awoke at around four AM. Everything happened so fast, but I can remember it in slow motion. At first, I didn't know what was wrong with me. Still intoxicated with alcohol and weed, I rolled over a few times. I could tell something was very wrong. My stomach felt bloated and was bubbling and gurgling. And at that point, it hit me. I knew I had very little time. I leapt out of bed and sprinted for the toilet. The second my ass hit the rim, it happened. Gas exited my behind at high velocity while jets of burning hot liquid turd simultaneously spattered out of my rear. I was in agony, and the smell was enough to make me cover my nostrils and hold my breath. After the gas had burned itself out, I was still left with hot liquid spitting and dribbling from my behind, burning my ringpiece. Half asleep and in a semi-dream state, I sat in a stinking room with lava dripping from my unlucky No. 2 hole. I remember breaking out in a hot sweat, my brow and top lip dripping onto the floor as I sat on the toilet for half an hour, drifting in and out of consciousness. As the time passed, I began to recover. The fountain of fetid excrement stopped weeping, and my bum and stomach felt such sweet relief. I had woken up a little now and felt so much better. I used copious amounts of loo roll to wipe the mess from my behind. Trouble was, it wasn't enough -- having been sat on the toilet for so long, the outer rim of poo had encrusted itself to my ass. 4:45 AM found me naked with a showerhead directed at my ass, washing away crusted shit. This was turning into a long night. After washing and drying off, I headed back to bed, climbed in next to my girl, and fell back to sleep. Eight o'clock in the morning: a piercing scream of disgust. I awoke and realized what I had done -- and what I had forgotten to do after. I quickly threw on my dressing gown and headed to the site of last night's eruption. Magna, my female housemate, stood at the door with a look on her face that said it all. I entered the room and the smell hit me. I looked into the bowl to see nothing but brown. The spattered jets of shit had sprayed the entire bowl with brown goo; the water was brown, with small brown lumps bobbing up and down. I hung my head in shame, opened the window, flushed the chain, and left the room. Needless to say, that particular takeaway menu was disposed of; and I doubt I'll ever have spicy chicken on a pizza again. Post new comment
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