Damn Crap

So I’m sitting on the crapper yesterday, all is well, I hadn’t gone in a couple days but everything seemed to come out nice and smoothly. So then curiousity strikes and I decide I must have a look at what I just released.

Well I get up and realize the I just let go two giant one-footers about two inches in diameter sitting incredibly parallel from each other. Now being the very experienced man that I am I know that with just a little bit of toilet paper sprinkled on top, this motherfucker’s gonna overflow.

So when I’m all done wiping I grab the plunger and immediately assume my Heisman position. This means I have the plunger in my right hand while my left is on the handle ready to flush. With a little hesitation i finally push down on the handle and it all slowly starts going down. This is where all hell broke loose.

The wet toilet paper seemed to have no problem sucking in and I forgot about it fairly quickly. At first my two giant behomoths slowly started to twirl colliding with each other at the ends. Then it started to speed up and before you know it they were colliding with each other at every angle at top speed leaving skid marks all over the place. I’m telling you it was fucking demolishion derby.
And then at the climax of the event a collsion of massive proportions occured. The two gargantuans crashed into each other and clogged up the toilet completely meaning no water can could escape. And slowly but very surely water started to fill up the toilet bowl uncontrollably.

This was my cue, I now had already put two hands on my magic stick and was ready to pump away. So I slowly put my plunger into the bowl of shitwater and pushed away the crap until I had an idea of where the hole was. And then I begin to pump like there was no tommorow. I pumped faster than I thought I could ever pump but it didn’t seem like it was enough. The water was getting closer and closer to the edge, I had to do something more, something ingenious, something incredible to stop the water from leaving the toilet and falling onto my bathroom floor. And then I finally realized the answer. So I put all my body weight onto the plunger and pumped harder and faster than ever before, my personal trainer would have been proud.

And then when I realized this wasn’t working I pushed the handle down and the water suddenly sank about 3 inches just enough time for some more pumping. So this trend continued for the next 15 minutes or so. The smell was so foul I swear I used the whole brand new bottle of Lysol spray in the first 5 minutes. The water was pitch brown with a touch of piss yellow around the sides. It was an incredible work of art. I could’ve stared at it for hours if it would’ve stopped trying to get closer to me. So after I finished I breathed a sigh of relief, put the plunger in the bathtub, wiped the sweat from my forehead (or was it something else?) washed my hands and congratulated myself for a job well done.

Hopefully this won’t happen to you anytime soon.

Oh My FUCKING GOD! That is simply brilliant! May I take a portion for a sig?

Sure why not

Y’know that thingy that the mods like, about descriptive titles and all?

I should’ve taken this one at face value. :smack:

By the way, where’s Lieu?


I think it was kind of descriptive, I mean I did say something about crap so I guess you were warned.

Hang on, the bowl was still filling after 15 min? I’m confused.

No, It stopped filling fairly quickly after I flushed the second time but it wouldn’t flush everything down for a while.

So there was a lot of flushing and I guess unnecessary pumping near the end. I seemed to think it was making a difference (maybe it was).

It WAS descriptive. I just didn’t heed it.


I have always referred to this phenomenon as the “helicopter blade”. If everything lines up just right, you get a brown helix on the inside of the bowl.

As long as we’re on the subject, I’ll add the following;

On a routine roadtrip coming back from Mother-In-Laws’ home about three hours away, the urge overtook me, and the need to visit the porcelain church became pressing, literally.

Like a golden beacon on the prairie horizon, the golden arches called to me, as a place with clean, decent bathrooms, that had probably not been horribly polluted by people whose diet consisted mainly of coffee, beef jerky and methamphetamines.

I carefully ambled into the restroom, passing the main counter with a sheepish smile and wave, as if promising to buy something after the crap fest. I entered the lavatory, then into the stall. The floor was a shiny kind of wet, and although I saw no signs, I assumed (incorrectly of course) that the floor had been freshly mopped. With nearly no time to spare, I slid toward the toilet, and in one uncharacteristically dextrous move, slipped my jean shorts to my topsiders, without letting them touch the floor, while coming to rest on the loo.

With a loud report and copious production, relief came instantly. A wave of painful gas followed, signaling the next wave. In an effort to remove the horriffic smell for any other patrons that might need to use the facilities , I attempted the courtesy flush.

This is where things went horribly wrong.

I had a sense of doom and forboding when I sat down, I realized now, why. The toilet, thanks to my input, was now impenetrably clogged, and the concept that the water on the floor came not from a janitors bucket, but from this very toilet, became cemented in my mind. I felt the air being displaced around the toilet seat as the fecal stew rose to level with the bowls’ rim.

Jean shorts still maintaining a safe distance from the wet floor, and sockless feet inside of leather top siders, I simultaneously rose and spun, hoping for a plunger, all the while hoping to contain the second wave. The bright yellow professional plumbers plunger handle stood proudly at the rear of the toilet, I grabbed it, and jammed the plunger head in what looked like the very mouth of the hudson river. I did not envy the plunger.

I began to plunge, whilst slipping around on the floor which was becoming more and more slippery, and keeping my pants out of the sewage on the floor was becoming more and more of a challenge. Bearing in mind that the second wave refused to be contained, and that my rapid lift and spin maneuver may have caused the interior walls of the toilet to look vaguely like a primate house, I was still happy to see the fecal tide began to retreat.

My heart rate finally slowing, and the incident slowly coming back under my control, I reversed my rise and spin maneuver to finish the paperwork and get the hell out of there. When I sat down, I carefully scanned the walls for any escapees. There were none. I hiked my shorts up, and readied myself to leave when I saw it.

A sizeable brown lump in the center of the stall floor. Holy shit! Was it mine? I didn’t know. Probably. Not sure. Should I do something? No. Yes. Fuck! Paper! Yes! Ok, finsh the wipe job, put a tent of TP over the offending lump, and hopefully escape without anyone noticing. I washed my hands, and made a break for it. Just as I was reaching for the door, it opened. My face flushed red, and in my best baso redneck, I said to the chap entering, “Helluva mess they gawt n’thurr” in a near sprint, I left the “restaurant” and headed for the car, where I took the shorts off, right in the noonday parking lot and bagged them, and put them in the trunk of the car, and sped off in my underwear, trying to explain to a bewildered Missus Jockey and Jockey Mutt, just what in the bloody hell I was doing.

It was then and there I decided. No more of mothers pasta salad, ever.

Bravo!!! Bravo!!!

OK, thanks.

We’re turning into alt.tasteless.

Not that it’s a bad thing occasionally, but you didn’t ever use “grogan” and this must be remedied.


There’s no finer crap
Than the massive crap
That we take at the close of day
It stretches the hole
As it fills the bowl
With a coil of foul clay…

Well, thank you both for a laugh. I would just like to add, that here in Hungary we do our toilets a little differently.
Now, one would think that the “bowl with water in the bottom” design had been declared the winner in the toilet design stakes, but here in Hungary, until comparitviely recently, they would of disagreed. What they have in all the older buildings here, including in my flat, is a kind of 2 tiered effect, with a small pipe filled with water at the botton of the bowl, but above that, apporvimately 5 inches bellow your parked posterior, is a kind of …display shelf, where everything you desposit reamins proudly on view, sans water, until you flush.
Believe me, one becomes more intimately aquainted with the smell, size, strength, colour and even texture of ones bodily excretions than one could ever possibly wish.

I was afraid this thread would be about what the title said, but I had to look.

That being said, if you realized there would be a problem flushing (said problem being made worse by the paper you were going to use wiping), WHY didn’t you flush and then wipe and flush again? Or would it not have made enough of a difference?

I’ve heard about those sorts of toilets, hanza, and all I can say is ewwwwww.

That’s a good idea but it would not have made a difference at all because it wasn’t the paper that flooded the toilet but the crap. Though I’ll keep that in mind next time. Maybe this story would’ve been longer if I did what you said.

Thank you eman, I would take a bow, but I fear the results.