First, a disclaimer. As a rookie doper, I have somewhat mixed feelings about posting such personal information as what follows. However, if there’s one thing dopers seem to have in common, it’s an appreciation for humor. Also, Scylla’s “Goat Porn” thread was highly inspiring to me. So here’s a story I shared with some friends a while back; hope you enjoy it as much as they did. Oh, and if you’re offended by poop, you may wish to skip the rest.
Hasta.
Lowell(ster). Who’s this other “Lowell” guy that beat me to my user name of choice? Ah, well.
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Trusted Friends,
The following may be more than you wish to know. If so, rest assured that I too hope that nothing like it ever happens again, but I cannot promise that I won’t feel inclined to share if it does. I felt it best to share my
story in hopes of bringing enough laughs and smiles to your faces to make up for my own agony and humiliation. If I am successful in that, perhaps it will all be worth it. But I doubt it. I also hope that you will be inspired to share and compare stories when the giant cow of my life
inevitably comes to shit in all of your pastures. Please, read on.
A POOP STORY
by Lowell
INTRODUCTION
The following story is completely true. The events described have not been altered in any way. Although I am not particularly proud of what follows, there is some humor to be found here and I feel that by sharing it with
you, my friends, some good may come out of my misfortune. To Lisa and any others who are sensitive to certain functions of the human digestive system but will undoubtedly be unable to resist reading the following chapters
despite having some idea of what is to come, I would like just to say that this should be regarded as fair warning. Enjoy.
CHAPTER I: GENESIS
The story really began around dinner time last night. I made one of my favorite things to have for dinner, a dish I invented myself which I refer to as “big pot of cajun buttered egg noodles and brussel sprouts”. On the
list of cool things about being single, being able to make “big pot of cajun buttered egg noodles and brussel sprouts” for dinner and eat the whole thing any time I feel like it ranks up near not being told that I need to have decorative fuzzy crap on my toilet, but I digress. I can remember when I used to ponder the fact that flour and water mixed together make paste, but if you add an egg it becomes egg noodles. Where does the paste go? Of course the answer is nowhere. I realize now that it simply morphs itself into brown ass paste some twelve to twenty-four hours after
consumption. Throw in a glass and a half of Bergie Brew [note to Dopers: a friend’s home brew], because it’s free
on tap in the basement, and the result to look forward to is something the approximate consistency (and not too far from the color) of that green slime stuff that we could buy to play with when we were kids. You know the stuff. Among its many interesting properties was the fact that, if you threw a gob of it up against a wall, it would neither really stick nor just fall off. It would just sort of slowly make its way down to the floor in an amoebic blob.
CHAPTER II: THE SECOND COMING
If I didn’t have to work for a living, I think that I would give up “big pot of cajun buttered egg noodles and brussel sprouts” forever. But since I actually prefer half an hour of wiping and getting paid for it to half an hour of working, I am in no way reluctant to indulge on week nights. Right on schedule at 9:30 this morning, I was ready to go. Perfect. Fifteen minutes of working it out, half an hour of clean-up, and a 10:15 coffee break. Poetry. The first fourteen minutes went exactly according to plan. It was in the fifteenth minute that things began to go awry. Just as I was putting on the finishing touches, I felt the unmistakable warmth of a large dingleberry. More of a dinglemellon, really. I did not panic. I immediately went through the standard procedures for dealing with just such
an inconvenience. Squinching and releasing, trying to get it to drop. Nothing. Gently swinging to and fro resulted only in it flapping softly against my cheeks. Even standing up and sitting down hard on the seat would not jar this stubborn little bastard loose. Giving up on the
conventional methods, I realized I would have only one option. I leaned forward to grab a wad of paper and bravely go in after it. Just as I made my lean for the roll, I could feel it begin to release its slimy little
tentacles. Perfect! All I would have to do is get properly aimed over the bowl so that it could make its little dive. Except that it did not give me adequate time for taking aim, and thus did not land in the bowl. Not even on the seat. Or on the floor, for that matter. What’s left, you ask? The little bastard plumetted directy into the back pocket of my pants, which was flopped open down near my ankles. And it did so with enough velocity so as to go directly to the very bottom of my pocket. Not a big deal, perhaps, had it been of more normal consistency. Suffice to say that,
after a thoughtful analysis of the situation, I concluded that anything resembling a clean extraction was completely impossible. There was not space to take a wad of paper and go in after it. Reaching in and attempting to flip the pocket inside out was not a possibility at all. I
believe I made the correct choice by removing shoes and pants (so that I would not have to operate behind my back) and going after it from the inside, but by the time all of that had been accomplished there had been significant, shall I say, smearing. Let me remind you that it’s 9:45 a.m.
and I am at work until 4:30 p.m. Really the only break I managed to catch is that I was lucky enough to be wearing my black pants. Although very valuable for masking visual evidence of the situation, black pants were of
absolutely no use in combatting the smell. In trying to maintain a positve attitude, I can only be happy that this took place in one of my last few days at my current job rather than one of my first few days on the new one.
Again, I hope that you have derived some sort of sick entertainment from my story. I certainly have. Take care.