This post is about something unpleasant.
Okay, so where to start now? What kind of good and appealingly smart introduction shall I say to make this story at least interesting at the beginning? Ah, screw it. It’s gonna have a horrific ending anyway.
Well, I don’t care. I just have to say how epic this night is. For starters, I soiled myself. For second starters, it was not a simple soiling, like skidmark soiling kind of shit. It was a flow. Well, more than a flow, it was a mighty gush of unstoppable collaboration of lunch and merienda and dinner.
My sister came with a bag of leftovers from her lunch at TGIFs. I ate a pasta (which I am too lazy to Google about) that contained fresh tomato sauce with chicken meat. And on the other bag were two separate packs of nachos. “Hooray for meh stomats!” is not my favorite.
I just have to say that my asshole is indeed an asshole for not doing his job right. Considering the fact that I was able to hold my shit in for at least 1 hour during travel time, I’d have to say that I am quite disappointed at my performance since I am already outside our house when Mount Crapperious started to erupt. It was an “Oh God” moment. If I had any respect left for myself, then this night would have drained all of it.
I felt like a 5-year old kid. Not because of the warm feeling but because the oozing crap behind my leg. It had been 15 years since I last felt the feeling. The only
difference from last night and 15 years ago was that I had my cousin to tell me the
obvious based on what he saw trickling down my knee. “Utoy, nagtae ka ba?” I gave a calm nod and he led me into the bathroom.Last night was disappointing. I didn’t even had time to react. It just happened. Like serendipity or a rainbow, or falling in love. Yeah, I just compared love to an unstoppable flow of shit. Very cliche.
I could’ve just dumped it on the sidewalk and have my mom sweep it with dirt or something, or have the cats bury it with their paws for me.
I mean, I could’ve just stuck a finger in my hole just to stop it. No, screw “a finger”, my fist, or anything bigger than the hole to stop it from happening.
It was warm though. It flowed from the back of my thigh down my leg like a warm mud from some spa. Only that it contained tomatoes from yesterday’s merienda. And it slowly went into the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Which made me realize that I don’t have good digestive skills when it comes to tomatoes. They went in and out, as is. Just like mais.
You eat mais, you take it out as is. Tigidigtigtiss.
So mom opened the door, I sheepishly walked into the house with a handful of shit inside my shorts. I didn’t know if she knew that I majorly shitted myself out. I had to remove my boxers and my major cargo shorts which was also stained. The amount of shit was so plenty that it oozed out of my boxer, into the floor, and into the cargo shorts. By the time that I sat down the toilet, all was left from my shitbox is a spoonful of shit. I had more crap on my butt cheeks, legs, thighs, and on my boxers than on our bowl.
Fecal matter suddenly dropped on the floor. For a few minutes I stared at the floor, staring at the patches of shit (my shit of course) thinking “what now fucker?”
So I had to fix myself, soap my thigh and legs with all those peanut-buttery goodness sticking into places they should’ve been. There are shit all over the floor. I had to quickly and nakedly run for a tissue paper which my shit almost consumed all of it. Better than picking it up with your bare hands. And flushing it towards the drainage is not really possible since the chunks are too big and the filters might not be able to let it flush through.
And so yeah, fuck that shit man. I was washing myself and the whole bathroom is reeking of my stuff. Good thing mom was gifted this Victoria Secret cologne that I think should just really be made for toilets and not the body.
My cargo short which should’ve lasted for a month without any laundry time and has just been removed from the cabinet has now been smothered with my dirt. So I washed it, together with my boxer short which took all the damage. I felt like a dad washing his kid’s lampin. But if I’m my own dad and that I had to wash my boxer to remove the shit, I’d tap my back and say to me, “Son, good son. Enjoy the rest of the day off! You know how to wash your own lampin!”
And yeah, I ended up running outside the bathroom naked and searching for a tissue paper and an alcohol.
And there, I just wanted to share the experience. It was dumb, disgusting, and full of bull shit. Sorry guys, I just had to.
