The poo from hell
I always leave the house without pooing first. And im oh so guilty of it. All the time. Any time I get into the car to go grocery shopping or to get a movie or anything, ill always end up mentioning that I should have gone to the bathroom. I dont know why. But it happens every time. And the trick of it is...it always occurs to me before I leave, but in the end...I shrug it off. Every. Time.
My wife and I had to go grocery shopping. We have three kids, and theyre all growing fast. So a grocery trip usually lasts an hour, hour and a half. Throw on my shoes, perfectly adjust my Dallas Cowboys hat. And we're ready to go. Jump into the car. And it happens.
"Huh...I should've gone to the bathroom."
10 minutes later, we're almost to the store and my stomach is telling me ill be making a gratuitous post later about this colossal mistake. We pull into the parking lot, and im using all my jedi skills and vulcan meditation techniques to contain the torrential flow of partially digested Amp energy drinks and hawaiian pizza inside my lower intestine. The cramps feel like Satan has summoned a boa constrictor made of feces to strangle my colon.
30 minutes into the shopping trip and im sweating profusely. Im trying to weigh the probabilities of the bathroom being empty against the almost certain circumstance of innocent people being audio witnesses to a man experiencing a bowel movement so monstrous, so incredibly violent, that he blows an o-ring and is found in a stall, a huddling mass of poo encrusted shivering humanity. The odds dont look good. Traffic appears steady through the restroom. Maintain. You can make it another hour.
15 minutes later it comes to a head. The structural integrity of my anus has been compromised. The chief engineer in my guts says I have 3, 4 minutes tops before a hull breach resulting in sections 34 through 58 of my pants being filled with excrement. Its time to be a man about things and get this over with.
While my wife is hypnotized by halloween decorations, I flee to the bathroom. NO ONE IS IN HERE!!! There is a god after all. Now we're way past the point of trying to politely convince your turds to flow silently and PLOOP! into the toilet. I dont even have time to throw a seat cover down. I unbuckle, pull down, bend over to sit...
The pent up rage....the cold, unrelenting FURY...of the downpour of shit rocketing from my butt is mind boggling. I cant even begin to describe anything that MIGHT match it. Consider if Santa were evil, and his sleigh was propelled by murder fuel collected from the nightmares of all the children in the world...if Jackson Pollack was possessed by the devil, then mercilessly raped by a silverbsck gorilla, and decided to express himself on the canvas...
It would not do justice to the rage that was expelled through my butt hole.
The sounds....the smells....the sights...im pretty sure this event sent out a psychic shockwave that decimated what was left of the noble Eldar species. The liquid fecal magma that flowed so freely devolved into a life or death struggle to dislodge what felt like the Rock of Gibraltar from its ancestral home in the crust of the earth. My knuckles turned white from the sheer force of grasping the sides of the toilet as I held on both for dear life and the cold, distant empathy of my porcelain companion.
I dont know if I passed out or the bowel movement sped time to the point that it was all a blink and was over before I knew it. I dont doubt either, to be honest. Im sure its entirely more plausible that I lost consiousness. However, if Stephen Hawking isnt busy, I wouldnt mind if he could check the fabric of the space time continuum for any cracks or stress fractures. I dont know if anyone heard my turd, smelt what I dealt or in any way detected what I ejected. I would hope, if they did, that they would feel for me instead of judging me. I can only apologize to anyone who may have been affected.
May god be with us all.
I shit really hard at a grocery store instead of my own home