Oh god i cant believe im posting this.
Homeward Bound.
I went to the school today to do some research on politics in the media. The sun was beating down on my back as i walked into the library. I was greeted with that eerie silence in which a one cheek sneak can get you in trouble. I walked up to the general collection upstairs to find a book i had been searching for. I had no idea how bad my hangover was.
I thudded down into a seat, my hand shaking from lack of liver function. I thought of my friend Robbie, who's liver hates him. I was just about to turn on my laptop when all of a sudden... the mud-butt. It hit hard and it hit fast. I looked around in a panic. No toilets on this floor, in-fact i don't even think librarians have assholes (thats why its so quiet in libraries, they are forever holding a poop in). I threw my backpack on, clenched my firm unyielding buttocks. I waddled back down the stairs and went to the first toilet i saw. It was a handicap one. I took a quick look around before grabbing the door handle. Locked. Panic. Clench. Sweat.
I moved to the next one, fat old lady cleaner. I was in a real situation now, these are the moments that shape you as a man. I had a decision to make. Run to the cafeteria, or just say fuck it and hope i make it home.
I paused, and looked to the sky just a breeze rolled in, it tossed my hair like a sheep in the wind. I started a awkward half run, half waddle down the path to freedom. To home. To where my toilet seat that always sticks to my ass cheeks because its so fucking hot here, is. As i was crossing the bridge over the marsh... disaster.
She came from no where. A girl who knew me, Swedish,blonde, tight, tits.
'Hey Ben!' she said waving.
I thought of Jesper. Paint Ball.
'Cant talk i'm in a rush, sorry!' Avoid eye-contact, walk fast, determined, clench, sweat.
I dont even know this chicks name why the fuck do i care?
'You we're drunk last night!' she said.
Way to go Nancy fucking Drew how did she ever figure that out?
'I have to shit. Peace.' Clench. Breathe. Make awkwardly long eye-contact. Glad i have a hot girlfriend already.
She laughs but i know deep inside she is thinking 'Wow i bet his dick is huge'. Later Paint Ball.
Im almost there, i prep my key ready for insertion. Bowls chaffing my intestinal wall, aching, clenching and sweating i make it to the bathroom. I unleash the wrath.
A maelstrom of faeces showers the walls of the porcelain throne. I cry out in pain. Chile sauce wreaking havoc on my quivering sphincter. The second wave crashes out just as the first ends. Tears stream my cheeks, i clutch the faucet on the sink. My feet raise off the ground, the capillaries in my eyes burst. The offensive smell seems alive, grating and seething in my nose. I hear every drop, every kernel. The larger nuggets splash water back up to my blistering sphincter, the only relief in this battle of faeces and man.
The worst seems over, i look in between my legs and survey the damage.
A demonic soup looks back at me. I see the half red flakes of the red pepper i had last night. The greens of what i assume to be cucumber skins. The tell tale black of one too many Guinness. A history of my night out stares back at me. Most startling of all is the water once so clear and pure, has been reduced to a shade of yellow that can only be described as ungodly.
I paw at the toilet paper, still dizzy. I hold it in my hand. I sit waiting for the heat to dissipate. I think of the freezer and how nice it would be if someone would bring me a ice cube. I think of wetting the toilet paper, but remembering from past experiences that there is only one way to really be rid of the pain. I wipe once. I pull it up for a look. The pattern is erratic, i know i have to wipe my cheeks as well. The splash back has been of epic proportions. I know now i can only shower this one clean. I stand up, legs quivering. My butt cheeks seal back together. The heat is ten times worse now. I turn the water on in the shower and immediately take my shirt off and dive in backwards with cheeks spread. The feeling is a religious experience. I utter thank you's to no one. I begin to cry again with happiness. I think this is how people who are trapped under building must feel when they get found by a dog too smart for his own good.
END
I thudded down into a seat, my hand shaking from lack of liver function. I thought of my friend Robbie, who's liver hates him. I was just about to turn on my laptop when all of a sudden... the mud-butt. It hit hard and it hit fast. I looked around in a panic. No toilets on this floor, in-fact i don't even think librarians have assholes (thats why its so quiet in libraries, they are forever holding a poop in). I threw my backpack on, clenched my firm unyielding buttocks. I waddled back down the stairs and went to the first toilet i saw. It was a handicap one. I took a quick look around before grabbing the door handle. Locked. Panic. Clench. Sweat.
I moved to the next one, fat old lady cleaner. I was in a real situation now, these are the moments that shape you as a man. I had a decision to make. Run to the cafeteria, or just say fuck it and hope i make it home.
I paused, and looked to the sky just a breeze rolled in, it tossed my hair like a sheep in the wind. I started a awkward half run, half waddle down the path to freedom. To home. To where my toilet seat that always sticks to my ass cheeks because its so fucking hot here, is. As i was crossing the bridge over the marsh... disaster.
She came from no where. A girl who knew me, Swedish,blonde, tight, tits.
'Hey Ben!' she said waving.
I thought of Jesper. Paint Ball.
'Cant talk i'm in a rush, sorry!' Avoid eye-contact, walk fast, determined, clench, sweat.
I dont even know this chicks name why the fuck do i care?
'You we're drunk last night!' she said.
Way to go Nancy fucking Drew how did she ever figure that out?
'I have to shit. Peace.' Clench. Breathe. Make awkwardly long eye-contact. Glad i have a hot girlfriend already.
She laughs but i know deep inside she is thinking 'Wow i bet his dick is huge'. Later Paint Ball.
Im almost there, i prep my key ready for insertion. Bowls chaffing my intestinal wall, aching, clenching and sweating i make it to the bathroom. I unleash the wrath.
A maelstrom of faeces showers the walls of the porcelain throne. I cry out in pain. Chile sauce wreaking havoc on my quivering sphincter. The second wave crashes out just as the first ends. Tears stream my cheeks, i clutch the faucet on the sink. My feet raise off the ground, the capillaries in my eyes burst. The offensive smell seems alive, grating and seething in my nose. I hear every drop, every kernel. The larger nuggets splash water back up to my blistering sphincter, the only relief in this battle of faeces and man.
The worst seems over, i look in between my legs and survey the damage.
A demonic soup looks back at me. I see the half red flakes of the red pepper i had last night. The greens of what i assume to be cucumber skins. The tell tale black of one too many Guinness. A history of my night out stares back at me. Most startling of all is the water once so clear and pure, has been reduced to a shade of yellow that can only be described as ungodly.
I paw at the toilet paper, still dizzy. I hold it in my hand. I sit waiting for the heat to dissipate. I think of the freezer and how nice it would be if someone would bring me a ice cube. I think of wetting the toilet paper, but remembering from past experiences that there is only one way to really be rid of the pain. I wipe once. I pull it up for a look. The pattern is erratic, i know i have to wipe my cheeks as well. The splash back has been of epic proportions. I know now i can only shower this one clean. I stand up, legs quivering. My butt cheeks seal back together. The heat is ten times worse now. I turn the water on in the shower and immediately take my shirt off and dive in backwards with cheeks spread. The feeling is a religious experience. I utter thank you's to no one. I begin to cry again with happiness. I think this is how people who are trapped under building must feel when they get found by a dog too smart for his own good.
END
Tags: humor
Comment
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Comment by Grant Dionysius on April 4, 2010 at 1:47am - I never new that having a crap could be such a laborious and potentially drumatising experience. Are you ok? This piece shows the one thing we all do but never talk about - we look at our shit. I look at it, Mary Jane looks at it, and I'm sure some libraians look; it's a good indication to how healthy we are right?
© 2010 Created by Geoff Jennings.
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