The day began with a call from my boss and a request to drive to a County Courthouse to file some legal papers. Otherwise easy money was complicated by the fact I had spent the prior night at a Dave Matthew's concert and my stomach was a bubbling mess. I agreed to the trip and drove the 90 miles with little stress. Like a complete idiot I decided to stop at McDonald's for a sure hang over cure. I devoured my McPoison and began the hour and a half trek home. That is when the fun began. About 30 minutes into my trip I felt a small but growing sharp pain in my stomach equivalent to what it might feel like to be speared from the inside with a fork.
The pain steadily increased but unfortunately become insufferable as I entered the city limits of Detroit. Deciding that the possibility of contracting an incurable illness from shitting in one of Detroit’s many slum gas stations was riskier proposition than shitting my pants I pushed on. In retrospect I think would rather have skin rot. The pain became insufferable but seemed to taper off as I reached the 10 minute mark of my journey. Content with my new ill-fated sense of confidence I lost my sense of urgency and began obeying traffic laws and stop for pedestrians again. I pulled up to the office feeling comfortable and relieved; I went in the building and pushed the elevator button. When the elevator arrived I took one step inside and felt the pain of a million wooden toothpicks jamming at my stomach and also forcing feces out my rectum. In a second of brilliance I crossed my legs as tight as I could and made an equally tight face in a sad attempt to keep the mush inside. No go. Out of desperation I ran to a nearby staircase and soiled my drawers, my shorts, my leg, my sandals, four different parts of the floor and most severely my pride. As the hot slop ran down my leg I could not help but giggle like a toddler thinking," I can't believe I'm shitting my pants in a staircase". When the carnage ended I quickly surveyed the area for a way to render the situation. I noticed a mop in the corner and thought my prayers were answered. Negative. The mop bucket was empty. As the ramifications of the disaster set in I heard a door open. As I leaned against the door to prevent anyone from coming in I ripped off my shirt and removed my t-shirt to use as a shit rag, wiped the mess from my leg and sandal. I was going to have to run. I peeked out the door and saw the man had his back to me. With a deep breath, I sprinted out the staircase and the front door avoiding eye contact with the man in the lobby because apparently if I can't see him he can't see me or worse smell me. I got to my car and called my boss who lucky for me was a friend and younger guy. He answered the phone and likely heard my panic-stricken voiced asked if everything went ok with the filing. I replied “yep, everything went fine but............I shit in the staircase, you have to clean it up." To which he replied "Are you fucking kidding me?” After a brief but intense argument finally convinced him that it was in deed possible for someone my age to defecate on the floor in a public place. Eventually he agreed to go down the street and review the madness. While my boss made his way down the street I was able to drive home and reflect on what had happened. My first thought was that if I got pulled over I would surely go to jail because anyone who drives around covered in their own feces is either doped up on something or a degenerate that would benefit from incarceration. Luckily, I made it home to the forgiving arms of my family. When I walked in the door I explained to my mom what happened she said that I would have to move out and that I need help. Could have been worse. My younger sister would not come out of her room because apparently she was more humiliated then me. Well, you can eat my shit, bitch! Here there is still some on my sandal!! Regardless, I think I made a strong decision by placing all of my clothes in a garbage bag and disposing of the evidence after I hosed myself off outside....my mom would not let me in the bathroom.
As this all transpired my boss made it to the disaster area and enlisted the help of another employee and friend of mine. As I understand the story my boss was accused of farting by my buddy as the entered the staircase on the 6th floor and there disgust grew more and more unbearable with each floor the walked down. When they reached ground zero it was clear they were cowards and could not handle the task so they sought help from the maintenance guy a man with no teeth that ate popcorn by sapping it till it was a fine paste and then swallowing. The maintenance man came to the site and decided with was not in his best interests to clean up the mess. I believe his exact words were something to the effect of "HELL NO!! F*CK NO!!! I AIN'T CLEANING THAT SH*T UP!!!" So, it sat and festered for a while till he came around.
When my mother allowed me back in the house I called my boss who said the matter was taken care of and we should never speak of it again. When I asked if anyone knew who did it he said he thought I was ok at that moment I heard a secretary belt out "WHO COULD DO SUCH A THING, THAT IS THE LOWEST FORM OF HUMAN EXISTENCE!” Apparently they blamed it on a homeless person. The next day my asshole boss made me work there. As I walked around with some bigwig, dorky attorney he told me to watch my step on the staircase some homeless dude shit in it. I'll be careful......STUPID HOMELESS PEOPLE.
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The day began with a call from my boss and a request to drive to a County Courthouse to file some legal papers. Otherwise easy money was complicated by the fact I had spent the prior night at a Dave Matthew's concert and my stomach was a bubbling mess. I agreed to the trip and drove the 90 miles with little stress. Like a complete idiot I decided to stop at McDonald's for a sure hang over cure. I devoured my McPoison and began the hour and a half trek home. That is when the fun began. About 30 minutes into my trip I felt a small but growing sharp pain in my stomach equivalent to what it might feel like to be speared from the inside with a fork.
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