So this will be a little awkward and difficult for me. Call me a pussy, call me a prude, but I’m just not used to talking about my movements to ANYONE, but I thought this should be noted. While I don’t have Technicolor Dreamshits, nor do I fight the “Man” with my stank-attack (btw, what if the cops decided to arrest you?!?) but my circumstance should produce at least a little humor, if not a little pity.
A few days ago (I would’ve wrote this earlier, but I was debating) I was finishing up my work day, and something began a-burbling. I thought to myself, like a regular dumbfuck: “Well hell, I just punched out, so if I poop here I’ll be pooping HERE on my OWN time? Fuuuu~uck THAT!” So I decided to take my short walk home (about 30 mins) and things began to fly red flags.
DEFCON 3: The Rush. “Ohh… man… this could be an issue.” was uttered as I am just leaving my workplace, Everything seems okay at first, until a stray Doberman decides it’s play/kill time and approaches me, growling, with a wagging tail. These mixed signals worried me, so in a calm, monotone voice, I tell him “Alright man, if you want to play, I have to decline, but if you wanna have a go, I will shit all over you… your choice.” and as if I were the fucking Derpdog-Whisperer the beasty back off slowly, then bolted off in a random direction to antagonize others.
DEFCON 2: Code Brown. Now halfway home, my stride is somewhere between a hurried Frankenstein and an epileptic Gumby, and I get yet another bump in the road; literally. A small protrusion, completely unnoticed by me, decides to sweep underfoot and abruptly trip me. Now I’ve tread this road bare over the years, and yet NEVER have I tripped, slipped, stumbled or had any misstep whatsoever on my trail, but today, the day of my Rectal Reckoning, I bust my ass violently. As if trained I do the Fatman Holy-Crap-How-Did He-Get-Up-So-Fast Move (which I think I got from one of Drez’ animes) and no bystander was the wiser, or so I thought.
DEFCON 1.5: Chocolate Pain, Angels cry and shake their heads in shame. Now it’s time to move. Like a well-trained shit-soldier on a recon mission to get rid of something, instead of recovery, off I went into the evening as if a zombie on crack. Noises could now be heard from me; guttural groans of a man at his worst – you hurt just seeing a man like this. You may PITY a man in this situation… and (best Gandalf impression) LET HIM PASS! Apparently if you’re an overweight trashy white bitch from down the street, you don’t understand this concept. “OH HAY!!1! YOU JUST LEAVIN’ WORK? I SAW YOU FALL DOWN, YOU OKAY?!? HOW YOU BEEN??!!1/1!!?1/1!?” Now at this point I am sweating, panting and generally in the throes of inhumanity, but this woman decided to be the veritable Avatar of Hatred, and STOP me mid-excursion. “YeahIjustheardmydogranawayIgottagethim!” was belted out randomly. I have no dog. All I have is pain. Off I go.
DEFCON 1: The Quickening. Under my breath, I carry a Mantra, a spoken word Shamanistic galdyr-speak that carries me onward through the last street and into Porcelain Glory! “Mustgo shitshitshitshit poop poop… pooppoo! Mustgo shitshitshit-” and this continues until I fumble with my keys to unlock the baleful door of my abode. Upon that moment, a feeling of relief quickly burns away into horror as I see the bathroom door; hatefully shut, and I knock with the fury of ten-THOUSAND Odins, and what do I hear? “Whoa bro! I’m pissin’!” from no other than our own Drez himself. I yell out as if I’m possessed by the Fecal Daemon himself “POOOOOOOOOP!!!” in a deep, angered yet mournful tone meant to be heard by the Gods themselves. He quickly leaves the bathroom, and decides to talk about his goddamn workday with me! I crash through the portal, slamming the door along the way, and glory is served.
Reprisal: Have you ever touched the gold that hangs from the taint of the Lord of Pure Elation? I have. Have you tasted the soma that is Unequivocal Near-Maddening Perfection? Right here, man. The feeling of treading, no… hopscotching, upon the Path of Near-Demise is but a stroll through the midday sun compared to this trial I had completed. If life were to give levels, I would now be able to prestige into the “Dump Warrior” class… which give a +2 saving throw against shitting oneself.
Please note that this was not a conquest to revel upon, but a precautionary life account. If you have the choice between shitting in a public place, safe from all physical agony, and dealing with the teeth-grinding horror that was my existance at that moment: TAKE THE FORMER! Please, for the love of your tract, do not go through what I had. I looked into the eyes of the Forever, and I survived. Not upon my own merits, but upon the strength of my colon, and a good amount of fortune.
I hope this has enlightened you to the reality that not all poop stories are of pure humor, that a few can be educational as well. This blog is not just of laughter with a taste of pain, it is of honor, and not shitting your pants.