Me and My Poopy Pants Dilemma I feel the need to start this story off by telling the reader, whomever
that may be, that every word of this is true and it happened, to me. I understand that it doesn’t particularly matter whether or not what I am about to tell you is true, but to date I consider it my shining moment when it comes to telling a good classic pooping my pants story. I wake up one morning just like any other morning, grab a cup of coffee, turn on CNN and start my day. I quickly realized it was going to be one of those days where everything was not as it seemed. My first fart of the day didn’t seem quite right, something was not good with my internal plumbing on this day, you see, it was a little wet. Not the kind of wet that leaves a nicotine burn in your tightie whities, just not that normal good air push. It came all the way from my stomach and past experience told me that this was not a good sign and I would have to proceed through the day with extreme caution when it came to relieving myself. Now, I know that farting for those of you who don’t fart is a taboo subject, however in my family you get ranked and can actually gain status by the tone, volume, length, and smell of your wind pipe. Anyway I proceed through my day, ran a few errands, get a haircut, do some shopping for dinner, just the basic day off work chores. Throughout the day the uneasiness in my gut has grown and a fart without a toilet below my ass is out of the question. Five O’clock rolls around and it is time to head to the gym and meet a friend for a workout. I know what you are thinking, “How in the hell are you going to workout in your current condition?” Thanks for the advice, but it wasn’t something unbearable that I couldn’t control, yet. At this point I am in just a bit of a hurry so I grab my stuff head to the car open the door put my right leg in and it begins. I farted the slightest amount of brown liquid, not bad but enough to have to go back inside the house spend a few minutes cleaning myself up changing my clothes and chuckling to myself that I can’t believe I did it again. Oh well not the first time it’s happened and probably wont’ be the last, no big deal. At this point I am really in a hurry, I have a friend who is going to be waiting on me at the gym and I hate being late for anything. You know, I think I’m feeling a little better at this point, that’s great I may be able to get in a good workout after all. I drive to the gym get out of the car and head in.
Something horrible happened to me from the time a closed my car door until the time I touched the door handle to the gym. My gut felt like a teapot that was boiling out of control on the stove and the steam had to get out now. Problem was I’m not a teapot and what wanted to come out wasn’t steam. I coolly and calmly, yeah right, headed for the bathroom, which is really a men’s locker room with lots of men in it. Now would probably be a good time to let you know I am not the smallest person on the face of the earth, I am about 6’3” and weigh in about 255 lbs. I only tell you this because the next point is the key to this whole story. I’m going to make it, I’m going to make it, that is what I kept telling myself on my mile long trip from the front door to the bathroom. In actuality it is probably about 100 feet. I’ve made it, I reach out grab the handicap stall, I like it because it’s bigger, only one problem it’s locked, you have got to be kidding me. I hate pooping in the regular stalls they are very cramped and uncomfortable, and in my current state I made need a sink before this episode is over. I have no choice I go to the next stall which no one is in, thank god. I sit down and all hell breaks loose. The only thing I can compare it to is the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor. I do have some modesty and loud pooping in public is not something I like to do. In this particular case the loud, smelly, splashing water poop went on for at least five minutes, pretty much nonstop. Finally, I’m done, but I stay seated for about another minute or so, just to be sure it’s over. Thankfully, it was. I leave the scene of the crime after what seemed like an hour, in reality it was probably only ten minutes or so, I walk through the locker room which oddly only has about two men in it, and I’m pretty sure they were both laughing. I make my way to the stretching mats find my friend and say, “Sorry I’m late, but when I was leaving the house I crapped my pants and had to go back in and change.” To which he replies “You want to talk about crapping yourself you should have heard the guy in the stall next to me a few minutes ago it was the most god awful thing you have ever heard.” To which I reply, “Was that you in the handicap stall?” To which he replies, “Was that you in the stall next to the handicap stall?” At that point no more words were spoken for at least thirty minutes, the reason was simple, every time one of us attempted to speak the speech was replaced by uncontrolled laughter and tears. Once we gained control of ourselves again, he felt it was important that I should know I was responsible for clearing out the men’s locker room. I have probably told this story a hundred times and still am unable to get through it without having a good chuckle, that apparently works equally as well as I put this story to paper. Hope you enjoyed it.