By Tim Lovett, GoldenLiterature.com
10:00 P.M. Tuesday Night
An unsuspecting adolescent named Ron opened up his freezer and made a horrible mistake.
"Nice," he said to himself, "An entire pint of Ben and Jerry's vanilla ice cream. I think I’ll eat the whole thing."
Bad fucking idea.
7:45 A.M. Wednesday Morning
Just as Ron was about to leave the house for what was likely going to be another run-of-the-mill school day, he suddenly felt a sharp pain shoot through his abdomen. It lasted a few seconds and went away.
"That's strange," he thought to himself.
"Hurry up Ron! I'm leaving in two minutes!" shouted his mother, who drove him to high school everyday.
Ron quickly gathered his things and walked towards the stairway. As he passed the bathroom, he felt pain in his abdomen again. Now he knew for sure that diarrhea was on its way. Unfortunately, he did not have enough time to go without causing himself and his mother to be late, something that would surely cause his mom to pester the shit out of him.
"Come on Ron, let's go!" his mother called again in the most irritating voice imaginable.
Ron stared at his toilet and pondered his situation. Then, in a testament to how annoying his mother was, he cognitively made the most terrible of decisions.
I'll hold it in. I can make it until I get to school.
"Ron," his mother yelled, "I'm not going to call you again!"
"Ok, ok, I'm coming," he replied before muttering, “You annoying bitch," under his breath.
As soon as the car pulled away from their house, Ron began to have second thoughts about his decision. His pain was no longer on and off, it was constant. Every red light and stop sign seemed to increase his agony exponentially. Worse still, they managed to get stuck in an intersection with a particularly nasty traffic jam that held them up for a good five minutes, which is about 50 minutes in holding-in-diarrhea time. When they finally got through it, Ron's mother turned the car left onto another street, one that was under construction. In addition to traveling slower than usual, the car shook and rattled excessively as it traveled over the torn asphalt. The vibrations inside the car made it feel as if someone was shaking Ron's intestines. Naturally, this hurt like hell.
Is it really fucking necessary for the asshole to have pain receptors? Holding in my shit shouldn't make me want to wish for death. What is the evolutionary value of this?
The only thing worse than holding in shit is having to make conversation with someone at the same time. Tragically, Ron's mother was the type of parent who had a genuine interest in her child's life.
"So, what are they teaching you in school this week?" she asked.
"S-S-Stuff," Ron replied followed by a groan.
"Are you ok?"
"Then why are you swaying back and forth?"
Ron hadn't even realized he was doing it.
"Oh...I don't know. Sorry about that."
"Well stop fidgeting in the seat like that, it's extremely irritating," his mother chastised, "You're sixteen years old for God's sake, you should be able to sit still in a car. Honestly, sometimes I wonder what is going on inside that head of yours."
AAAAHHHHH!! I can't hold it in anymore! Somebody kill me! I wanna die! I wanna fucking DIE!
"Look, I just don't feel much like talking right now," Ron said, hoping to end the conversation.
"Well, what do you feel like doing," his mother replied, not yet ready to give up on making conversation.
Well, besides taking a shit, riding in a car that is driven faster than the speed limit would be nice.
"I just feel like staring out the window and thinking to myself."
"Ok, then," his mother said sarcastically.
When they finally arrived at his school, it had been twenty-eight agonizing minutes since leaving the house. Normally, this ride should have only taken about twelve minutes but life had decided to fuck with someone yet again.
“Have a good day Ron,” said his mother.
“Okthanksbye,” he blurted out as he leaped out of the car.
“Ron wait,” his mother called.
WHAT THE FUCK COULD THIS BITCH POSSIBLY WANT NOW?!!
“Aren’t we forgetting something?” she asked as she held his book bag in the air.
“Oh, thanks,” he said as he took the bag and then quickly slammed the door shut to prevent any more disturbances.
Now on the school grounds, Ron was close to a toilet, but not yet out of the woods. His pain was continuing to worsen every minute and he still had to walk in a casual manner. Ideally, he could have just run to the nearest bathroom. However, in this scenario, it was out of the question. Running would draw attention to him and when he was seen running inside a bathroom, many people would immediately make the connection and he would become a laughing stock. But that’s how it is among most youth and even many adults, simply knowing someone had diarrhea is an excellent reason to make fun of them.
As Ron made his way up the walkway, a voice suddenly called out to him.
"Excuse me," called the intrusive female voice from a small booth she had set up.
Ron cringed, perhaps he should have ignored her, but he was just too polite. It was one of his worst character flaws. Besides, it turned out that this girl had a busty chest, which despite his pain, made her worthy of lending an obligatory ear to.
He stared back at the girl in a way that communicated, "I'm willing to hear what you have to say, but you're a douchebag if it's not important."
"Would you care to donate some money to help children in the middle-east?," the girl asked.
You fuckin' bitch! My asshole is about to explode and you're bugging me about sand-nigger spawn? I oughta kick you in your cunt!
Don't be mislead, Ron wasn't a racist and hateful person. It's just that the more badly you have to shit, the less morals and ethics you possess.
"No thanks," was all Ron could say, so very eager to relieve himself.
From there, he managed to power walk himself inside the school and to within thirty feet of the bathroom, when suddenly, out of nowhere, someone accidentally bumped into him, and disaster struck. Ron's absorption of the impact had allowed his sphincter to let down its guard for a split-second. The space between his asscheeks now felt warm and moist.
"Oh, my bad," said the stranger.
You're bad!? You'll never have any idea what you've just done.
"That's ok," Ron responded in a panic before hurrying on his way.
As the fecal matter trickled out of his anus, he may have felt much life a fighter pilot whose plane had just been hit. All he could do now was blindly land the ship that was his body to the bathroom, assess the damage, and hope for the best.
Twenty seconds later, Ron was approaching the toilet as more fecal matter managed to slip out, despite his most intense efforts.
Noo! Stay in ! Stay in! AAAAARRRRGGGHHH! Motherfucker!
At this time, the amazing powers of human adrenaline went on display as, with speeds unfathomable, Ron threw down his pants, slammed open the stall door, turned 180 degrees, and allowed himself to fall ass-first onto the toilet, where he unleashed hell onto the bowl. As his intestines emptied its contents, the pain gradually and mercifully left his body, and from a mental perspective, he felt himself come back to earth. When it was all over, he just sat there breathless, reflecting in awe about what he had just gone through.
Wow...just fucking wow.
Now that the initial wave of diarrhea had passed, it was time to do a damage check on his clothing. First, he nervously looked at his boxers and immediately regretted it. It was not a pretty sight. The entire back of it was covered in shit and absolutely ruined.
For the love of God, tell me this didn't seep through to my pants.
Like a madman, he stripped himself from the waist down, putting the ruined boxers on the top of the toilet so no one would see them. Then, he frantically inspected his pants.
Legs...clear, ass...clear, crotch...fuck.
There it was on the crotch, just below the ass, a light shit stain about the size of a half-dollar.
Well my day has gone to shit, both figuratively and literally.
The schoolbell rung in the distance signaling the beginning of first period. The sound of dozens of students marching to class could be heard immediately afterward. Ron took another look at his pants.
Fuck that, no school today.
Ron sat quietly in the bathroom stall for another thirty minutes just to be absolutely sure that the contents of his asshole were now stable. With about another half-hour remaining until classes switched to second period, now was the best time to make his escape.
He slowly pulled his pants back up. Now came the hard part. He pulled down his shirt as far as humanly possible to cover the stain. He was successful, barely.
Damn, why didn't I wear a baggier shirt today?
Ron paced back and forth in his stall to stimulate the effect of walking back home. He discovered that the natural motion of his body gradually pulled his shirt up enough to reveal a small part of the stain. However, it being a shit stain, the revealed portion may as well been as large as the Pacific Ocean.
Suddenly, someone else entered the bathroom. Ron quickly sat back down on the toilet to avoid arousing suspicion of any kind. About thirty seconds later, another person walked in and went to urinate. The two boys happened to know each other as they exchanged greetings.
Christ, will you people just piss and leave already?
After they both finished washing their hands, one of the guys saw Ron's feet and couldn't resist spitting out a remark.
"Damn, that dude's takin' a dump," he shouted.
"Nah, he's takin' a smash," the other pitched in.
"No wonder it's so stinky in this motherfucker!"
They both cracked up at each other's remarks as they exited the bathroom together. This little incident had confirmed all of Ron's fears.
If the typical student finds those lame-ass remarks funny, I might as well kill myself if I get spotted with shit on my pants.
Now the bathroom was clear again, but since for how long was anyone's guess, Ron had to act quickly. The first step was to get rid of the ruined boxers. Ron carefully picked them up by the elastic, burst out of the stall and flung them right into the nearby trash can. Thinking fast, he put his hands into the garbage, grabbed as much trash as he could and scooped it over his boxers to conceal the evidence. Sure, the boxers would soon pollute the entire room with the foulest of odors in a matter of hours, but that was someone else's problem, not his. Ron then casually washed his hands, made a final adjustment to his clothing to conceal that shit stain, took a deep breath and slowly opened the bathroom door.
This is it. Either get out of here undetected or spend the rest of my highschool career, and possibly the rest of my life known as 'The Dude Who Shit His Pants'.
He poked his head out into the main corridor and looked from side to side. The coast was clear, he had lucked out. Usually, any given hallway had a few people walking around for various reasons so he figured he had a small window of time to get out of the building unnoticed. Making sure to walk fast, but not too fast, he hastily made his way to one of the side hallways, at the end of which was an exit door. All the while, he was had both hands in his pockets while clamping his forearms against his shirt to keep it held down tight.
When the door shut and locked behind him, his confidence increased. At the very least, his reputation within the school would not be ruined. However, there was still the problem of not letting anyone else see him. It was going to take him roughly 40 minutes to walk back home and he lived in a fairly tight-knit community where, by his estimate, about half of the residents knew his family. If he was seen outside of school, it would likely be assumed that he was cutting and his mother would eventually find out. Then he would have to listen to her bitching and unlike diarrhea, he couldn’t expel her out of his asshole and be done with her. Also, there were probably plenty of adults willing to make fun of him for shitting his pants.
Might as well get this over with. Cowards die many times before their deaths. Christ, I'm quoting Shakespeare, I'm a fucking mess today.
In order to minimize his chances of being seen, he did his best to avoid the main roads, traveling down every side street possible. Most of the streets he walked through ended up being entirely deserted as it appeared that the entire town was either away at work or tending to domestic matters indoors.
His journey home had been entirely successful up until he was just around the corner from his house. There he spotted his next-door neighbor, 77 year old Mary. He figured she must be walking around the neighborhood accomplishing some daily errands. Although she was a nice lady and wouldn't accuse Ron of cutting school, she was a gossip and talked to his mother on an almost daily basis. He quickly thought about backtracking and taking a different route to his house, but it was too late.
"Hiya Ronnie!" said Mary in a tone as if he were still five years old.
"Oh, hello Mary," said Ron while eyeballing his surroundings lest anyone get a good look at his shitty ass while he was forced to stand still.
"Shouldn't you be in school?" she was quick to ask in a concerned voice.
Ron was trapped now. It was either be mature and honest and tell her the truth or be a man and lie right to her sweet old face.
"I had to leave school, because I wasn't feeling good. In fact, I'm on my way home to rest right now." So please do me a favor and end this conversation.
"Oh you poor dear," Mary responded, "Well before you lay down, make sure you take some Tylenol."
"Ok, I will. Thanks."
"And drink a full glass of water with it."
Ron suddenly heard someone walking towards him from behind.
Please let me go Mary, this person might discover what’s happened to me!
"And for dinner," Mary went on, "you want to eat a nice big bowl of chicken noodle soup."
Mary, you fuckin' suck! You know that!? Why do you have to be such an old fuckin' lady!?
"And make sure you breathe in the steam. It will clear you up if you're congested."
Ron cringed as the person walked by. Luckily, the person took no notice of them.
"And drink the broth too," Mary was still rambling.
Oh, fuck you and your broth!
"Well, thanks again, but I'm afraid I must be going," Ron insisted.
"All right Ronnie. You take care now."
Finally, he was home free. Although his mother would soon find out he was supposedly sick, it would be an easy lie to uphold. No harm would come of it.
“Oh, Ronnie,” Mary called after him.
“You should wash those pants,” she said in an obliviously loud voice, “they’ve got shit on them. I’ll have to tell your mother to buy some stain remover for you.”