You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Shit Stories: Part Number Two

This is a question Shit Stories: Part Number Two

As a regular service to our readers, we've been re-opening old questions.

Once again, we want to hear your stories of shit, poo and number twos. Go on - be filthier than last time.

(, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 14:57)
Pages: Best, 22, 21, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

« Back

This is a QotW answer I never knew whether to laugh or cry
I guarantee on pain of death that this is 100% true.

At the end of a meeting of my girlfriend's university friends in Huddersfield, which was at Frankie & Benny's (My most hated of all restaurants), I had the overwhelming urge to visit the toilet.

While everyone was waiting for the bill to arrive, I cautiously hobbled towards the bathroom, as the slow realisation came to me that something of substantial pressure was pushing against my sphincter.

Leaning into the cubicle, and taking a seat, I was unsurprised that within seconds,

PTHCHECKHCKECHCEKECTHTHTHTHTPPPPTHRP!

a tidal wave of epic liquid scheisse spewed forth from my anal cavity cascading toward the transparent depths below.

This continued for a further five minutes, until I felt that enough of the gravy was gone that I could relax.

Now, as some of you may know, in the toilets of Frankie & Benny's they play a 'teach yourself Italian' CD or something equally inobtrusive to the faecal experience; a man saying something in Italian, and a woman calmly saying what he just said, but in English.

Then I heard the immortal phrase:

'non ci è carta igienica'

and with exquisite timing, i reached to my right hand side to hear the woman calmly translate what I was experiencing at the time:

"There is no toilet paper".

PANIC.

I tell you, I almost shat.

In this situation, I felt exactly what the title of this post says. I laughed, I cried, I wondered how the hell I could get out of this without just assuming the embarrassment would kill me, and ending my own life.

My quandary was now how to deal with my gravy-coated posterior. There was only one way (I now realise that there were two ways, but that is beside the point).

I jumped up and looked into the other cubicle to see if there was anyone looming, and as quick as a shit-stained ninja I opened the door and dashed as fast a man with his pants around his ankles could into the next womb of thinking tranquility.

I'm so glad that noone walked in at that point where I was waddling between cubicles, else they would have seen on top of clenched legs what presumably looked like a fleshy balloon that had been cleaved with what appeared to be a melting chocolate axe.


Less about length, more about fluid ounces.
(, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 15:30, closed)
This is a QotW comment
Ha! I remember having to do the ninja bog dash in school once! *clickety*
(, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 15:35, closed)
This is a QotW comment Ha!
The hop of shame!
(, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 15:42, closed)
This is a QotW comment Nice turn of phrase
"fleshy balloon that had been cleaved with what appeared to be a melting chocolate axe"

genius
(, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 16:20, closed)
This is a QotW comment Melting Chocolate Axe of the Monkey.
+3 Agility, +3strength, -1 trousers. *click*
(, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 20:01, closed)
This is a QotW comment Yep
what they said ^^

Click
(, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 19:17, closed)

« Back

Pages: Best, 22, 21, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1