Tollbooth Willie
The Freeman
- Joined
- Jul 27, 2005
- Messages
- 17,556
- Reaction score
- 830
My buddy Ian is always sending me crazy shit through email. I don't know where he finds these things, but this story took the cake.
Again my feces have defied physics and any rational explanation. It's friday, so I went and got 2 eggs over easy, wheat toast, and some breakfast potatos at a local cafe. They make great stuff, and for DC, it's really cheap: $3.80 for a LOT of food. I like eggs over easy, but they certainly don't like me. About 30 minutes after eating them I generally feel like someone just threw gallon-sized rubber hot water pack at my stomach. There's a definate dull pain, and the rippling feeling of waves. I'm pretty sure the 'waves' are just my body's own revulsion in regards to what is about to happen.
I hurry to the bathroom just down the hall. We have 3 stalls. Some sick bastard is sitting in the middle stall with no one on either side of him. It's about to be his unlucky day.
The top of my Levis is bearily out of the line of fire with my ass about 4-6 inches from the bowl when it lets loose. Often times this type of thing means liquidy poo. Not so this time. I've become the world's first upside down missle silo, firing off 3 Scats (the precursor to the over-used Scud) in rapid succession. These aren't little guys, they each have to be about 4 inches long with a what felt like 50 megaton warheads attached.
During the barrage I had fallen back onto the seat. we have one missle remaining, but it appearsto have become locked midway through the firing tube.
This is always a tricky situation. You don't know the condition of that motionless shit-a-mander in your sphincter spa. One wrong move could crush it, and you'll be wiping for 10 minutes. I go for it. I push. I turn red. I lean into it.
Nothing.
I wiggle a bit, yeah, it's definately stil lthere. Fortunately I've been shitting for 28 years now, so I have a few tricks up my ass. Err....sleeve.
I try leaning forwards then sitting back up over and over like someone jacking up a car, all whilst pushing. No shit-dice.
The guy next to me rustles. I'm glad. After the artillery fire before, who knows, he might have been caught in the crossfire. Either way, he doesn't appear to be going anywhere. Sick bastard.
Time for desperate measures. I can't actually dislocate my hip on command, but it sure feels like I can. I try to open up space, putting my leg out to the side, and start really pushing, I'm holding my breath, my eyes are squinted closed in concentration.
It's out! I stand bolt upright to turn to see my victory, and I see one tiny shit pellet (the dislodged 'missle') slowly drifting down to a very odd sight. Somehow all three of the earlier barges of brown ballast are laying in the same direction, two right next to each other kind of standing over the hole that everything gets flushed down, and the last on top of the first two, making kind of a triangle of shit logs, an underwater log cabin if you will. The look almost neatly handplaced instead of fired out of a high powered ass cannon. And there's that little pellet floating down like the first shit flake to start a very shitty winter.