Another Winnipeg/Girl/Poop Story

by riley

2008-04-25 18:56:24 PDT

I went to a "cheesecake party" once when I lived in Winnipeg because there was a girl there I was trying to put the mack on, unfortunately forgetting that I am totally incapable of macking on anything other than foods. 'Sup burger, you wanna, I dunno, get eaten ?

I was a vegan at the time and had made a vegan "cheese"cake (shut up), and it turned out pretty well all things considered. Since I was a vegan I ate mine and one of the other vegan ones some lady brought (mine was better, ho) and was drinking Pepsi because I was a vegan for health reasons. So me and my buddy were there for a while and I was kind of half-chatting with this girl I had a boner for, then her boyfriend shows up and I was like, man fuck you for existing. But he didn't care, he had a hot girlfriend.

So I was sick of staring longingly at girls and cheesecake I couldn't put my mouth on, so I peaced out that scene. As I was walking home my stomach started grumbling. At first it was just a gentle motion, like a mother rocking a baby to sleep, but it quickly gained momentum like a baby who refuses to sleep getting a vicious shaking. I started farting, but the end of the farts were barbed with shit like a fecal scorpion tail, and I would have to clench suddenly. They came with more frequency and urgency and the farts got shorter and shorter before spiking out my shitometer. I was maybe two blocks from home and I tried running but made it two houses before my sphincter fluttered like a butterfly trying desperately but in futility to escape out of the jaws of a lion.

I wasn't going to make it.

I was on a dark street in between street lights and I had no choice. I ducked into the yard I was in front of, squatted between a tree and the darkness of the house, and let loose the blackest, vilest, most explosive spray my ass has ever released. It was painful but at least it was over quickly, and frankly I couldn't sit around and risk getting caught befouling this stranger's lawn not three minutes from my home. I realized, however, that my ass wasn't going to clean itself, but being the dead of February I didn't really have a lot of wiping material. So I yanked my pants and gonch off faster than lightning, got my ass as clean as possible with my underoos, and threw them on my still steaming waste.

"Sorry. Really." I whispered at the house's unknowing occupants, and shamefully hurried for home with a gurgling stomach, no woman and a shit-caked ass.