Never use a parents bathroom and other poop lessons

I'm in my room with my friend Rashelle when she gets up to go to the bathroom. I wasn't exactly sure why she left my room to use my parents bathroom, but she did. I'm in my room waiting and I hear the toilet flush. Then I hear it flush again. THEN AGAIN. Then no noise at all for a couple of minutes. The silence is finally broken by the sink then Rashelle running to the hallway bathroom carrying a bag. "HEY!" I call to her and as she passes she gurgles and screams at me (shes an odd ball) then slams the hall bathroom door in my face. As the door was slamming I caught a glimpse of something brown in the bag.

I made the quick assumption that it was poop. After processing the horrifying sight I had just seen my concentration was broken by PLOP-PLOP then the running sink. Having already visualized the horrid event in my mind I didn't even ask her as she moved to my brother's room and began rolling around on his medecine ball. As I moved in to begin my interrogation she blurts our "hey theres crap on my baracelet!!!" - confirming any questions I was about to ask. Here is her version of what went down. She went to the bathroom and the toilet in my parents room did not flush. So searched out a plastic baggy, turned it inside out, and picked it up LIKE DOG POOP. When she told me this story i cracked up. She had actually picked up human poop with her own hand, in a bag, and transported it to different bathroom. To top things off she she dropped the poop into my toilet, and flushed it. Then she shoved the bag into my trash can.....the wet, poopy, smelly, putrid bag. Her best attempt at covering up the mess was to unravel an entire roll of TP on top of the mess. If there are lessons to be learned here I think these are it: a. NEVER use a parents bathroom b. Transporting poop is not ok. c. Toilet Paper is not a good tool for hiding feces.

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Farting Experiment in Library

Turns out people are offended. Go figure.

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Staircase Incident

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 Shit Detective: First Responder

I am a police officer, and while on patrol, I had saw a gathering of pedestrians outside the doorway of a building. I suspected there had been a stabbing, shooting, or something to attract the attention of this crowd. I came over doing my usual routine, telling them to step aside and let the "professionals" do the work, when to my horror, I laid my eyes upon the bloodiest, corniesest shit I've ever seen in the middle of the street.

It was disgusting. Lumps of blooded corn were all over the concrete about a half a foot in diameter, and the crowd erupted in laugher. I desperately tried to convince them they misunderstood me and that I am not the “professional” of dealing with bloody corn shit. My partner in the car where I parked emerged as he noticed the laughter coming from the crowd, and joined in on the shit-gag. Since that day, I have never gone one day at the station without being referred to as the “Shit Detective”.

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Pooper in the Headlights

I must have been 14 or 15. I met up with a bunch of my friends at one of our friend’s parent’s houses. We left telling his folks that we were gonna go see a movie or something. As soon as we left I felt it. Oh man did I have to go. I begged my friend to take back to his parent’s house and he said that wasn't an option due to the lie he had just spun. I couldn't wait. "DUDE! just pull over then!" I yelled. So it was a heavy winter in Michigan and I was in some random front yard with my drawers around my ankles popping a squat. I started to make some snowballs to wipe with and all the sudden my friend drives off. I’m thinking: real funny guys. All was going well considering, then out of nowhere I’m blinded.

There is a car with it's brights on me honking. I turn around and all the lights inside the house I’m pooping in front of started coming on. The home owner comes to the front door and I’m in his front yard wiping my ass with snowballs. The owner started yelling and I started running only to realize that the car that brought all that attention to me was full of my friends laughing their asses off.

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New Product - Fart Deodorizer

I think he might be serious.

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Burning Hot Poop Incident

As you may already know, I have a severe addiction to diet coke. On Sunday, I came to realize we had run out of it only after I had returned from Georgios with a delicious piece of tomato and pesto pizza. I ate the pizza accompanied by a glass of water but found this unsatisfying, so after I was finished I decided it was a very crucial matter for me to acquire a can of dc so I began the trek to 7-11. In my haste for that nutra-sweet, I forgot to consider that I had been unable to eat any amount of food for the past 2 weeks without a dash to the bathroom immediately after its consumption. As I walked to the store, my stomach began to rumble, but I thought its only 2 blocks... ill make it. By the time I reached the stores parking lot, the cramping had set in. I knew it was a matter of urgency but my need for diet coke prevented me from turning around and making the mad dash home. I walked in 3 people in line... no big deal.. I’ll be in and out. I thought of grabbing a little snack while I was there for later but after I close the cooler door I knew there was no time.... I reached the counter... and was confronted with the biggest loser hippy employee 7-11 has ever seen. He tormented each customer as they came... and had no sense of urgency in his dealings. I waited what felt like 4 minutes... pondering where the nearest toilet would be... I knew there was not one in 7-11... I eyed the parking structure across the street... could I really take the chance?

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Finally it was my turn, I threw the money at the cashier and made a split decision...my only chance was to make it home. I walked/ran home at an unprecedented speed. Ran in the back door... only to hear the voice of a male on the porch... could I really risk a boy coming upstairs after I had alleviated myself.. the answer was yes... I ran up the stairs only to hear another male friend's voice in my roommate’s bedroom just inches from the bathroom... knowing this boy the way I do.. I knew it would not be safe to shit in his vi9cinity, surely a comment would be made if he discovered what I had just done..... so I ran in the bathroom, grabbed a roll of toilet paper (thank god I had the foresight) and headed the bathroom downstairs... no one ever goes down there.. I would be safe. I flipped the switch to the bathroom... it began to flicker.. and as I rushed in, it turned out. I could not shit in the pitch black.. that I felt was just asking for trouble... but what could I do?... I couldn’t go back upstairs... I would need a new light bulb... and I rushed around the basement looking for light that had easy access.... as there was only 2 to choose from I chose the one without a fixture over it. I couldn’t turn the light out before I ripped it out of its socket because the light switch was upstairs and there was certainly no time to rush back to the top of the stairs.. so I grabbed a stray shirt from the dryer to use to shield my hand from the burns that would surely be delivered if I touched it with my bare hand. I unscrewed it and in my frantic state shifted it from the the hand with the t-shirt to the other scolding my fingers... but there was no time for burn treatment so I ran into the dark bathroom... and was confronted with a light fixture hanging by several oddly placed screws... I ripped the screws out, I don’t even think I turned them and screwed the new light bulb on with the speed of an electrician. Then I sat on the toilet, relieved myself.. While at the same time nursing my burnt hand......

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