Ok. I did not write this, but i found it to be the funniest thing ive read all week.....

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning
computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething
cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over
forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the
process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal,
following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch
at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with
subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things
would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order
for my wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way backto the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go.
I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have
numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:

0.Occupied.

1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

2.Poo on seat.

3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of
toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and
sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. I wasn't happy about being
next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds
of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone
conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of
Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Sh1tter was blathering to Mrs. Sh1tter about the sh1tty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer
cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand
against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded
with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone
ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall.
The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not
unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency
of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became
apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's
continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the
bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a
gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way underthe stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had
ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of
choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear
that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear
that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and
blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in
me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later,
in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to
ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now,
all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he
desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made
themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up...
in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..."
followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at
the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding
down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear
words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I
could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal
announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily
into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a
fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him
running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage.
I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew
that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that
unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl.
Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom
with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a
face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

OMG!!!

The stench grenade!

I needed a good laugh, and while this is somewhat graphic in nature, I couldn't help but LMAO. Rep to ya!
Wait a sec.... Oh, no, now I HAVE TO GO!!!

Quote: Originally Posted by LwrS10 "... tell the kids... love them... oh God..."

Hilarious! Bling for you......

Hey , I know you were sick....hope there is no connection here....HA!

Edit: HA! GrandpaNoob beat me to it...! no matter!

............

HAHAHAHA. That was great man, i'm still wiping tears from my eyes...


isn't it funny that "farts and $hits" alone are not really that funny...but put them together and either show (American Pie) or read a long, drawn out dialogue of someone on the crapper, and its pure humor classicness

BTW...the post made me have to go "drop the kids off at the pool," i will return shortly...my co-workers will not appreciate it

Aaaaaaaaaaagh. Just imagine some poor soul walking into that bathroom afterwards.

For all those who enjoy these sorts of things, you can read some of these sorts of stories on www.poopreport.com It's absolutely amazing the terms that some of the writers use.

Good one! I laughed my 4ss off!

OMFG, LMAO, ROTFL

Quote: began choking my poop-mate.

he named the dude next to him poop-mate

rep to ya. that was sooo damn funny.

i loved that story....now if they just make a movie...

but it had a sh1tty ending beachbum

maybe they can throw a love triangle into it and a boat...oh wait...they already did that..."Titanic"...

LMAO!!

REP!!

(animation done by yours truly)

Heh, that was a funny read

Reminds me of Arse.coms very own Dangerous Uncle.

http://www.arse.com/uncle.shtml - Arse experiments.

You deserve a new avitar Lwr

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Quote: Originally Posted by anoncompboy You deserve a new avitar Lwr

LMAO! And you deserve some rep for that one!!

damn! didnt realize it would be this big of a hit!!!!! BREAD MAKES ME POOP!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Im supposed to be on my best behaviour tonight, and not mention poo...OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE?!!!"

I'm pretty sure the guy who wrote that article ALWAYS beats me to the bathroom by about 15 minutes...

Oh and those are great graphics, anoncompboy

Rep to both of ya

lmao thats great!

All I can say is WOW! That's the first time in ages I've nearly fainted from lauging so hard! Definate Rep!

It kind of reminds me of my freshmen year at college.

I return form a thrilling hour and a half in English needing a good poo. I walk into my room to put my stuff down and find my roommate staring at his computer screen....Only problem is that the computer is off. He turns slowly and leisurely says

"Someone shat in the sink!"

(We lived in a dorm with community bathrooms)

So the first thing that comes to mind is "let's investigate"

I exit our room and slowly open the door to the bathroom.....

and what did I behold you ask?.... "Someone has shat in the sink!"

The really bad part is that upon closer inspection I find that it appears that someone "played" in it. It looked like someone had picked it up and was squishing it between their hands and smearing it all over the counter.

I return to my room and call the RA on duty, she arrives shortly and proclaims "Why does this S#!t have to happen when IÂ’m on duty?!?!"



Tru storyÂ….