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1

THE POO STORY: by Gunnar

WARNING: The story you are about to read contains poo. If poo offends you or makes you ill, do not read this story. Author claims no responsibility for nausea, vomiting, dizziness, or death that may result from the reader’s lack of braincells in deciding to read this anyway.

This goes back to 1994 while going to school at UCDavis.

I was working the closing shift at a fast food Japanese restaurant called Hibachi one evening and a bit into it reallized I needed to take a dump. I decided I’d hold it because there is just one little bathroom and since it is a small place all other employees know when you duck out for a dump (besides there were a lot of orders to fill and my absence would cause backlog, no pun intended of work in the kitchen). Anyway, restaurant closed and it was getting really bad so I decided to go for it since we were just doing close up, etc.

Damn, I waited too long. Someone had already cleaned the bathroom and I didn’t want to totally pollute it because a) everyone would know it was me and b) I’d have to re-sanitize the bathroom.

By now it was getting rough, and I was doing the “poopy dance” while washing the dishes, but still figured I could make it till the end and get home (my apartment is across the campus, maybe 1 mile at most).

Finished work, closed up and off I went. By this time it was extremely volatile. My buttcheeks were clenched and cramped to keep Jr. in his cave. I figured, I’d duck into one of the classrooms to find a bathroom. Too late, they were all locked. I got back on my bike and was pedalling hard and fast. My ass felt like each cheek had lifted 7000 lbs from being clenched so hard.

Oh crap, the turtle was now poking out for a peek while I fought valiantly to force him back in. I sat firm on the seat, thinking it would help me squeeze together. Too late!!! Here it comes!!! OOOOOOOHHHHHH Crraaaaapp!!

Because I was sitting down and wearing tight jeans it came squeezing out the front and back filling the crotch area of my pants and the back of my ass. I was a human Play-Doh Fun Factory as the biggest dump of my life unloaded into my Jockeys and Levis.

Thoroughly disgusted and humiliated, I rolled behind some darkened bushes to try and clean up a bit (the most futile effort in world history).

I couldn’t strip down easily to discard the undies since I was wearing combat boots. Plus I was freaking out that I would be caught poo covered and undressing in the bushes. So, I managed to get my pants down to my knees and since I was taking home a beef bowl anyway I grabbed the styrofoam circular lid and started scoopin’ mud from my pants. I think this was all a mistake since I had to pull them back up after shoveling to no avail. Pulling up the completely slimed poopy pants, just spread the poo to new areas.

I had taken off my work T-shirt to wipe some of the mess and just left the poo-shirt, poo-beefbowl, and other remnants in the bushes before making my trek home. Shirtless (but wearing my denim LARD jacket) and soiled, I hurried home and up my stairs. No one stopped me or saw me on my way in but . . . .

. . . yeah, that’s right. My Japanese roommate (little English, and limited contact with me) and his girlfriend were watching TV on the couch in the living room as I came in looking and smelling like GG Allin. There was even poo on the top of my boot from a bit that traveled southbound.

I ducked quickly into the bathroom, threw all my clothes in a garbage bag and showered like never before. Since I was in college and poor I actually washed the pants (I would have saved the jacket anyway - still got it). This incident was never mentioned by my roommate whom I think had already been scared of me but now was probably terrified.

When I told this tale at an audition for the show “Fear Factor” about 8 years later I had about 10 white faces staring at me as if I was from another planet.

Nowadays I poo as frequently as possible and try not to take any chances.

2

You’ve just reminded me of a line that always made me laugh, it was in a Stephen King book, something along the lines of “he turned his Fruit of the Looms into a fudge factory”.

3

You’ve just reminded me of a line that always made me laugh, it was in a Stephen King book, something along the lines of “he turned his Fruit of the Looms into a fudge factory”.

NICE!!! I didn’t know that was in the book (I never actually read it) but that must have been “The Body” which is what “Stand By Me” was based on. Corey Feldman is mocking one of Ace’s thugs and uses the line.

4

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL

Man, that was epic. Why didn’t you just dookie on the side of the road or sidewalk? A lot less humilating than shitting yourself hahaha!!

Me personally, if I was in your situration I wouldn’t have hesitated taking a shit infront of onlookers, I’d be like, “SO WHAT, MOVE ALONG, BOZO”.

5

Hehehe, yeah, that sounds about right. He has an amusing way with words sometimes.

6

Too funny.

7

If y’all are wondering why there’s a “disclaimer” in the beginning . . . when I originally wrote this story on PISS ARMY about 10 years back there were actually people complaining. Yeah, that’s right. They read a story called “The Poo Story” and then got mad that it was a story about poo.

8

The forum was called PISS Army. And they were upset about a POO story.

Wow.

9

That’s funny… …um… shit…

Speaking of GG Allin, I had the opportunity to see Mr. Allin long ago when I was a much younger man than now and of course GG was still breathing at the time. The show was at the original Blondies on 7 Mile in Detroit. I saw a bunch of shows there, Megadeth, Slayer, Exodus, all kind s of hardcore… Tiny place maybe 150 peeps tops. Anyway, Blondies was in a really sketchy part of Detroit. I hated going there but always had a great time at Blondies even if it was a complete pit.

We got there early, it was a GG Allin show, who knows what could happen. Shortly after the show began a bunch of Nazi’s showed up. I think GG scarred the piss out of these guys because they started to back up from right up front. GG started ranting about something or another and the band broke into a tune. After maybe 7 minutes or so. GG takes a huge dump, rolls around in it and attacks the crowd. A mini riot broke out, about half the crowd fled in terror. Things “settle down” briefly. The band does another tune and GG breaks a bottle over his head and goes completely ballistic into the crowd.

Those that were left, pretty much went berserk at that point. I recall the Nazis raining down beer mugs on GG’s head and it didn’t do a thing. It was pretty much a full blown riot now. I mean it was on. Then the cops came. This was back when the Detroit boys in blue carried clubs. Youch…

I don’t think 30 minutes went by start to finish. I got cracked in the ribs but good with a club but I had a blast and am really glad I went. No way in Hell I’d do it again though.

10

That’s awesome, Prologue. I’m sad to say I never got to witness the spectacle of a live GG show. I remember actually considering it when I was like 18 (this would have been 1993, shortly before he died). I would have had to drive like 3+ hours to Hollywood (Madame Wong’s) to see the gig, but, alas that was the last show that would have been on my side of the world. One of my regrets in life is not attending (yeah, that might be a “regret” shared in the “unpopular opinions” thread, haha).

12

My ex girlfriend pissed on the floor in a crowded room during a Secret Chiefs 3 gig some years ago.

She didn’t piss her pants - rather yanked up her shirt, pulled down her undies, squat down and let rip.

I’m sure there’s a story in there somewhere but I can’t be arsed at the moment.

13

About 15 years me and my friends were driving around the south west of England (glastonbury area -hippies, farmers) looking for something to do, we got a phonecall saying that there was a party on at some isolated house.

So we went there and it was pretty mad, the place had been more or less wrecked, broken glass getting crunched into the varnished floor, completely guffed out with the smell of ganj and rocks, pretty much every wreckhead in the area was there

It all wound down and we were having a smoke in the kitchen, getting ready to leave, when suddenly the lady of the house reappeared - this arch hippy, and she was seriously angry… and to be fair the place was fucked, there was a big trail blood on the stairs greeting her when she came in, which would have been instantly annoying

So she hoofed everyone out, it was about 4am on the 1st of november, completely frosted over & freezing winds. Then we realised the guy with the car keys was passed out upstairs. My mate knocked on the door - arch hippy threw a cut glass ashtray at him from an upstairs window and said she was phoning the police

So we got to work on plan B, and decided to wait until it got light in some nearby public toilets, smoking and chatting shit. Me and my friend rob got bored and went for a walk. Rob noticed a stack of newspapers outside a shop, he went to pick them up, then stumbled and dumped them on the bonnet of a car

The alarm went off, and then quick as a flash a light came on, and some guy went “OI!” and began to give chase.

No word of a lie, he had a METAL HAND with spikes on it, and an England shirt on. Needless to say, we shit it

We ran a couple of blocks in a circuit and got back to the toilets.

I remember there was a church just down the street, and back in the day churches weren’t locked at night. I said I was going to go and kip in there, a couple of people said they were as well.

Rob and the remaining two elected to stay in the toilets.

So we were a few dozen metres down the road when suddenly one of the group shouts “OH FUCK!” and points at the toilets… and there was the hand man, rounding everyone up into the back of a van! He slammed the door shut, turned around and looked at us.

We started running along this unlit back road, every now and then he would cruise by looking for us & we’d dive into a hedgerow. We walked about 5 miles in the dark until we got to another village, and crashed at a mates

Didn’t hear from Rob for a couple days… was getting a bit spooked out, but then a friend walked into the pub in an extremely animated state and explained he’d just met rob and got the rest of the story

apparently once in the van, he started making all kinds of threats, but when he changed his death hand for a suction cup to operate the stick shift, my mates found it hard to keep it together.

Eventually he just dumped them in the middle of pitch black nowhere on the somerset levels and drove off.

Rob, presumably in some kind of confused high state, apparently walked back to the arch hippy’s house to get the car keys, couldn’t get in, ended up stealing a bike and passing out in a field.

About 12 years later I was living in London, and I got the bank tube train early one morning for my commute. I picked up a free metro newspaper and there he was (see link below)

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/news/8848476/Man-gets-smartphone-dock-built-into-prosthetic-arm.html

14

That’s a cool “smart arm”, but I must say if it were me I’d be more intent on upgrading the hand itself. There are a lot more specialized and advanced models now, beyond the old-school Capt. Hook standard issue (been a while since I’ve seen one, actually).

15

Ok, so Junior year of high school me and my buddies Homer and Kevin used to ride around in Kevin’s little ancient Ford Escort all the time. For awhile there we used to always be bumping shitty rap songs half-ironically. Like “Informer” by Snow, or most especially that “Gangster’s Paradise” song that Coolio did. You know the one. Constantly. Like, Kevin had the cassette single and it would just sit in the tape deck and play over and over.

So anyways, I was in this club called Interact that was like the multi-cultural club, basically it was a club for all the exchange students (we had a lot at our school), their host families and friends. So one day I met this girl Christy, she was a senior and we had been going to the same school and had the same circle of friends but somehow had never crossed paths. It was pretty odd actually, my high school was not very large, and literally I had heard people talking about this girl for a couple years and we just never met until then.

So we hit it off, started spending lunches together, it became pretty clear we were being flirty (poems were written, etc, oh teenagerhood…)

So after a few weeks I got up the nerve and asked her out on our first date. I met her at her house, her mom and stepdad had ordered some pizza, so we ate with them, seemed like nice people, real friendly. Then we went and drove around for a while and then went to go see that shitty movie “Fear”. You know, the one with Marky Mark and Alyssa Milano and Reese Witherspoon. That turd of a movie. We had a good laugh, had a real nice time. We were both totally smitten.

So, like a week later, my buddy Gabe and I were waiting for Christy to come to my house for study group for our World Lit class, and she’s running late, which is not like her. I call her house a few times and get no answer until like the third time her stepdad answers her line (also unusual) and just says “She’ll have to call you back.” Very strange. About an hour later she calls and just says “I can’t make it today” and gets off the phone really quick.

Well the next morning I look for her at school but she’s not there. About third hour, word gets around to me what happened. The day before, she got home from school, went to her room for awhile, hears her stepdad get home while she is getting a load of laundry together, and was heading downstairs to put it in the machine when her stepdad comes up the stairs looking all pale saying “Don’t go down there, there’s blood everywhere.” Turns out her mom had gambled away all her college money at the casino and blew her brains out.

So a couple days later, I got into Kevin’s car with him and Homer and join a bunch of other students who left school to attend the funeral. The whole thing was surreal. We get to the funeral home and it’s standing room only, and when the service starts I’m like dead center in the back of the room between these exchange students Jochen and Fabrice, and Kevin and Homer are off to the side of the room with my ex-girlfriend and some other people.

So the preacher is up there talking and I’m kind of zoning out on him, standing there thinking “man this can’t be happening, this is just so sad, this doesn’t make any sense, I met her just a week ago and she was laughing and happy, this has to be some kind of joke, it just doesn’t make sense, like, any minute now the lid of the casket is going to fly open and she’s going to sit up and it’s going to be a big laugh…” and I’ve got like a single tear rolling down my cheek.

And just then the preacher says “yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” and my brain instantly jumps to “I TAKE A LOOK AT MY LIFE, AND REALIZE THERE’S NOTHING LEFT, 'CAUSE I’VE BEEN LAUGHING AND BLASTING SO LONG THAT EVEN MY MAMA THINKS THAT MY MIND IS GONE!” And I had to stop from bursting out laughing maniacally. Like, I literally had to choke out the sound coming out of my throat. So I’m biting my lips and my face is all screwed up tight with my hands over my face and I peek over at Homer and Kevin and they are obviously having the same problem, with these horrible tight-lipped smirks on their red, red faces with my ex elbowing the both of them. So I see that and it only makes it worse for me, and at this point I am full on shaking from the laughter I am trying to suppress, which of course the foreign exchange students next to me take as a severe case of grief, and they throw their arms around me, hugging me, telling me it’s going to be okay. I about died right there it was the most bizarre fucked up cross-sections of emotions I’ve ever had. So fucked up and so, soooooooo fucking inappropriately hilarious.

So yeah. That’s my story about how to put the “fun” in funeral.

16

That’s awesome . . . I mean, you know, ironically . . . the part about the Coolio lyrics, of course, not the suicide stuff. That’s really messed up.

My buddy and I went to Magic Mountain (the amusement park where “KISS Meets The Phantom of the Park” took place) when we were about 14 or15. While we were in line for COLOSSUS (roller coaster) we see some girls ahead of us and they are holding hands. Allen shouts out, “Are you girls LESBIANS???”

The one on the right turns around and looks straight at us. You could hear a pin drop as she responded . . . “No. She’s blind.”

17

That’s awesome . . . I mean, you know, ironically . . . the part about the Coolio lyrics, of course, not the suicide stuff. That’s really messed up.

My buddy and I went to Magic Mountain (the amusement park where “KISS Meets The Phantom of the Park” took place) when we were about 14 or15. While we were in line for COLOSSUS (roller coaster) we see some girls ahead of us and they are holding hands. Allen shouts out, “Are you girls LESBIANS???”

The one on the right turns around and looks straight at us. You could hear a pin drop as she responded . . . “No. She’s blind.”

Davelybob, I would have lost it too.

The horror of assumptions!

I was standing in the lobby of a movie theater when I heard a girl about 9 years old say, “Look mom, she has a fake leg!” I had sprained my ankle pretty seriously and had an air cast on it inside my regular shoe. http://www.amazon.com/Aircast-02AR-Air-Stirrup-Ankle-Brace-Medium-Right/dp/B000VGNDK2/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1402442080&sr=8-4&keywords=aircast+air+stirrup

On the first day of my senior design I class, our Prof. hands out a Request For Proposal (RFP). 24 students in the class and everyone is listening to what the Prof. is saying. I read the first paragraph of the RFP and burst out laughing to the point of tears; everyone turns and looks at me. “Did you read this?! The RFP is for an orbiter/probe for Uranus!” True story. There is an engraved brick in the sidewalk that has Probe Uranus EP Design 1997 on it.

18

Well, yeah, I mean, it’s NASA, right? What else are they gonna do besides probe Uranus?

(I wouldn’t have been able to stop laughing either.)

20

I walked in on my ex girlfriend’s (actually it was the same girl I mentioned earlier who pissed on the floor) parents going at it doggy style on the couch in their home once. And they didn’t even care.

Actually that whole family were weird. Very weird. Her parents spoke in thick Dutch accents and swore like troopers. Especially her mum who let fly a “cunt” and a “fuck” every two or three minutes. She also still breastfed her younger children whom must have been all of 6 and 8. And speaking of of pee/poop, this family had a bucket in the corner of the loungeroom that the kids used as a potty when they were glued to the tv which I thought was gross.

The dad was pretty cool though - even if he did look almost exactly like the Jeff Daniels character in Dumb And Dumber and usually drank til the sun came up. He was way into experimental music and introduced me to lots of cool artists like Stockhausen, Tony Conrad, Faust and Brainticket.

I played him some Ministry and he told me it reminded him of a “crazed Japanese suicide pilot shagging before his final mission of death”. Or something.

On my 21st birthday, he hired a Jamaican escort worker to strip for me and then fuck my brains out AT their house (in private though, not in front of them…jeez!). My ex thought this was hilarious. But then again she was a weird assed hippy drug pig.

We hired a charter boat once, for a deep sea fishing expedition and she pooped over the side of the boat in front of everyone. None of the crew spoke to us after that.

Only dated her because was hot.

22

I used to live in a street where travesties prostitutes seek their clients and there was this inn in the ground floor of my building where they usually consummate their business.

I had a roommate who used to smoke a cigarette in his balcony at night and I would be there with him watching the travesties routine and listening to their funny stories about fucking famous tv personalities and stuff like that. One day, there was this huge, really ugly brasilian travesty, walking around and suddenly she/he squats down and we hear this booming fart echoing through the night. We stood their in silent while she/he rises looks indifferently to the poo and walks into our building. Since that day I never touched the entrance door again with my hands. Now that I think of it I should had never touch that door.

23

NOOOO!!!

It just happened…AGAIN!!!

I hadn’t crapped my pants in seven or eight years. Recently that trend of crapless underwear has been severely broken - the drought has ended and in the last three months it has happened three times.

Just tonight, my younger sister was visiting. She had been to some fancy pants French delicatessen over the other side of Melbourne this afternoon and had come over to share her rather yummy haul with the three of us.

Seeing as I’d had absolutely no lunch, I dug into some velvety duck pate, slapping it onto french crackers with aplomb. Really good nosh and went down a treat with some chili and garlic focaccia, pork pie and olives - and all washed down with some apple cider and then some rather nifty after dinner port, which I’d had tucked away under the stairs.

So far so damn good and garlicy.

Later on however, I’m downstairs rifling through the Saturday papers looking at the real estate section when I feel a powerful movement in my bowels. Remembering that there was no toilet paper in my upstairs toilet (I live upstairs and my parents live downstairs) I hurried to the laundry to take some from the cupboard - then made my way upstairs.

Now, for this story to take full effect in the minds of my fellow prongers, it must be noted that my parents house is the size of a small aircraft hangar. So, by the time I had reached the stairs and had started the long walk up, something squishy and rather huge began to worm its slinky, slithering way through my bowels and out through my buttcheeks and was threatening to wreck havoc on my so far perfect Saturday afternoon.

I hurried but all was in vain. Every time I lifted a foot to climb one more stair, the noxious fecal matter edged out just that little bit more and more. If this damn thing had been a baby it’d be crowning by now, so I was in real trouble.

Squish, squish, squish all the way to the toilet and by the time I’d had opened the door it had crash landed and was nestling snugly and warmly in my under-drawers.

Pulled my pants down and splat - all over the edge of the toilet.

How bad was it?? Well…let’s just say I’d had to change ALL my clothing, take a shower and then disinfect both the toilet and the toilet floor. It was as if Jackson Pollock himself had decided to decorate my bathroom in his own inimitable style - using my crap instead of paint.

I shall be having nightmares for the next three to five weeks, I dare say.

Thank you foie gras. Last time I’ll be gorging on you for quite some time to come.