My Best (and clearly most embarrassing) Shit Story Ever!

Posted: July 15, 2010 in Uncategorized

It was 1990. I was a boy of 16 years old then. I was down at the local basketball courts about 2km from my home, shooting hoops with a good friend of mine who lived near the courts. As our game was winding down I was suddenly struck with I like to call “the grippers”. That feeling like a ghost has reached inside your bowels and has started squeezing your large intestine with one, and only one, goal in mind: Make you shit yourself.

I quickly decided it was time to go. I bid my friend goodbye and started heading to the bus stop. My home was in a neighbourhood at the top of a large hill about 2 km away, but a bus came frequently that would take me up the hill and bring me within steps of my door. I needed to get to that bus…IMMEDIATELY.

As I started making my way, I was hit by the second wave.

All shits come knocking. Sometimes they ‘tap tap tap’ at your door with a little message that says “hey, dude…just a heads up, you may want to think about heading home and emptying your bowels in the next 30 minutes or so”. Then there’s those awkward times when a poop literally kicks down the door of your colon and screams “TIME’S UP BITCH!?!”

I quickly determined that there was little question IF I was going to shit myself…it was merely a matter of where, and when.

Having little choice, I spied a small area of dense trees and bushes a few yards away and ran into the thick of them, hoping to find an acceptable place to drop my load. This is not a decision I made lightly. If there’s one thing I hate its a shit squat. That horrid sensation of moving my bowels in the open air is enough to make me ill! But I had no choice, it was here, or my pants.

Once my nike shorts were dropped and I was in the squat position, I let her fly. What ensued could only be described as ‘primordial’. It made any shit I ever took in a rotten old outhouse seem like a day at a Swiss Spa. I’m pretty sure I started a new ecosystem in the bramble that day. A new sub class of creature was born. I fear it still haunts the hills of my home town to this day.

When the deed was done I was struck by a horrific realization: I had nothing with which to wipe my ass. I quickly began scanning the surrounding foliage for something to use. Sadly, I wasn’t in the Brazilian Rain Forest and no palm leaves were available. Instead I was surrounded by what I would describe as tiny shrubs with miniature leaves the size of fresh basil in every direction.

I quickly begin pulling HUNDREDS of these tiny fuckers and building what looked like a makeshift bird’s nest in my hand. One leaf layered over another and another until my hand was covered in this tiny leaf pile. With a deep breath, I sent them back around to the epicenter…what HAZMAT officials would later call ‘ground zero’.

NO GOOD! It didn’t even make a dent in the toxic event. NOT A DENT!

By this point I was mentally broken. I knew I had to accept my fate, pull up my shorts, and DEAL with whatever uncomfortable situation was left behind until I could catch the bus, get home, and bidet myself in the shower for 30-45 minutes.

So I begin my “DEAD MAN WALKING” trudge to the bus stop. The 50 yards or so gave me a great deal of insight on just HOW BAD the situation was south of the border. I pretty much could have saved myself the stress and just shit my shorts. It would have made very little difference to the current state of affairs in my underpants.

So there I was, standing in broad day light, a near grown man, soiled like a nursing home reject. All I could think about was the hot shower I was about to have the second I walked through the door. I figured I would sequester myself deep into an unoccupied area of the bus and stand up all the way home.

Suddenly, a car honk. My heart stops. I slowly turn around praying I see no one.

There, parked before me, is my good buddy Paul who lived around the corner. He had spotted me as he drove up the hill, and like he had a hundred times before, stopped to offer me a ride.

“Hey Daryl, what’s up?!” he said, ” Hop in!”

I broke out in a cold sweat. If I could have willed my own death at that moment you would not be reading this now.

“Uh…No thanks!” I scream, with a look and a tone so odd and inappropriate that it even surprised me. Paul cocked his head, confused.

“What are you talking about? Shut up dude, and get in. Let’s go!”

I was left with no choice. I had to play this out to the bitter end. It was destiny.

“Ok, thanks…”

I gingerly get in the car and try to hover on the seat by pressing my back so hard into the rear of the seat I thought it would snap. As we drove up the hill, Paul made small talk, and I just stared into the distance, my eyes dead. Only one thought kept crashing through my mind again…and again. “How in God’s name can he NOT SMELL THAT?”

At one point Paul grew quiet. It was then I knew. I had just lived through the most embarrassing moment of my life. He dropped me off, and I’m assuming drove directly to his dealership to have his car detailed. I had nothing to say. Maybe a congenial “Sorry I made your car smell like the run off from a meat plant” would have been appropriate, but I was emotionally devastated.

Years later I still remember every moment of that fateful day. A day that lives in the pantheon of all embarrassing moments.

Experiences like this change people. If you wonder where my germiphobia comes from, wonder no longer. Peace.

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Comments
  1. FancyWalker says:

    I just peed.

  2. Lil' M says:

    wow…I’m crying…

  3. Barfed on his junk says:

    That’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard!!!!

  4. Matt the Bing says:

    IJSMP!

    Or I Just Shit My Pants, that was too funny!

    Matt

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