Pasted from an email, true story.
I didn't mean for it to happen. I never wanted anything more than to go to the bathroom, do my business, and get back to shopping with my wife. I always swore that what happened that day in the Sears bathroom would stay there, in my heart and in the hearts of the other half dozen or so guys that were there. You know, like Mexico -- "what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico." But I can't keep it in. It's going to burst out of my chest like a baby Jesus alien if I don't tell someone.
I was prepared for an uneventful day of shopping with my wife. No big deal. But around six PM we were in Sears looking at God only knows what... I seriously can't remember much about why we were there. The reasons are clouded by the sheer ecstasy, the sheer pleasure, and the utter spark of the divine that took place on that small block over a year ago.
So I'm with my wife and we are (well, SHE is) shopping when all of a sudden I feel that unmistakable pressure in my stomach signaling to me that a batch of brownies are on board and are about to come out of the oven. So I tell my wife I have to go to the bathroom (actually, I told her that I had to go "take the browns to the super bowl"). She just rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever."
So I hobbled off to the men's room like a little boy hobbling down the stairs Christmas morning to see what he had waiting under the tree. When I got the bathroom, I instantly noticed that no one was there. There were three urinals and five stalls; and I had the whole place to myself (at least, for then). As a big fan of following the unwritten rules of public bathroom, I went all the way to the end stall. I sat down.
I began the great exit as I whistled with the radio station that I could hear faintly from my position. I was really cooking up some logs, too. This was one of those visits where I was going to walk away five pounds lighter, I just knew it. As I sat there, I heard the door creak open and someone come in. The dude immediately entered one of the four remaining stalls and, by the sounds of it, began the crap of his life.
But that's not the weird part. The weird part of this story is that within the next two minutes, people just kept coming in and coming in. It was as if a homing beacon was turned on aboard the mothership and she was calling her babies home. Soon all five stalls were full, and not quietly. As I sat there, the sounds of asses exploding and the grunts of people enduring gut-wrenching bowel expulsion filled the room. And by "filled the room," I mean that the five of us indeed filled the room with a stench only equaled in horror moves. I mean, I usually don't smell other people's shit when in public bathrooms, but this was unbelievable.
Meanwhile a man and his son walk in while the five of us are giving back to society. And as they are at the urinals, the smell hits them. The little boy, probably five or six years old, says to his dad, "Dad, I can't pee in here, it stinks too bad!"
The dad must've looked at his son when he said, "Oh get over it. Just do your business and hurry up." The son started to say something, but the dad cut him off and told him to quit whining.
I could hear a snicker coming from one of the stalls next to me. I wish that was the worst that happened. Suddenly I heard the boy start coughing -- while he was peeing, I assume. It sounded like he was losing control. The smell was attacking his fertile lungs, and it was getting the best of him -- midstream, to boot.
Finally, I heard his dad cuss in disgust. "Dammit! You peed on my leg!" The boy tried to apologize, but he just couldn't stop coughing and hacking. And then he blew chunks. Right on the middle of the floor. The boy started crying and his dad cut his stream short (I'm guessing -- I heard a little whimper of pain like happens when you cut the stream short) and started toward the boy, who had backed away, still peeing everywhere.
Couple this with the sounds of five asses blatting in the background and the grunting of their owners, and you begin to see the beauty of the situation. We sure did. I don't know who was the first to laugh, but when the dad went to pick up his son and ended up slipping on the puddle of puke, all five of us howled in unison.
The dad was cussing the situation and our existence. He was covered in puke and piss and we -- the members of the Fantastic Five, as I have come to call us -- were laughing our asses off. It was as if a little chunk of poo heaven was sliced just right and jammed into that little bathroom that day. Finally the dad managed to grab his son and get out of there as fast as he could. The rest of us were there for ten minutes or more, just laughing and farting and shitting. It was amazing.
I never met the other four guys who were there that day, because I hung back and waited for every last one of them to leave. But I know that we all shared something special in that moment -- something that would be remembered for the rest of our lives.
I didn't mean for it to happen. I never wanted anything more than to go to the bathroom, do my business, and get back to shopping with my wife. I always swore that what happened that day in the Sears bathroom would stay there, in my heart and in the hearts of the other half dozen or so guys that were there. You know, like Mexico -- "what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico." But I can't keep it in. It's going to burst out of my chest like a baby Jesus alien if I don't tell someone.
I was prepared for an uneventful day of shopping with my wife. No big deal. But around six PM we were in Sears looking at God only knows what... I seriously can't remember much about why we were there. The reasons are clouded by the sheer ecstasy, the sheer pleasure, and the utter spark of the divine that took place on that small block over a year ago.
So I'm with my wife and we are (well, SHE is) shopping when all of a sudden I feel that unmistakable pressure in my stomach signaling to me that a batch of brownies are on board and are about to come out of the oven. So I tell my wife I have to go to the bathroom (actually, I told her that I had to go "take the browns to the super bowl"). She just rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever."
So I hobbled off to the men's room like a little boy hobbling down the stairs Christmas morning to see what he had waiting under the tree. When I got the bathroom, I instantly noticed that no one was there. There were three urinals and five stalls; and I had the whole place to myself (at least, for then). As a big fan of following the unwritten rules of public bathroom, I went all the way to the end stall. I sat down.
I began the great exit as I whistled with the radio station that I could hear faintly from my position. I was really cooking up some logs, too. This was one of those visits where I was going to walk away five pounds lighter, I just knew it. As I sat there, I heard the door creak open and someone come in. The dude immediately entered one of the four remaining stalls and, by the sounds of it, began the crap of his life.
But that's not the weird part. The weird part of this story is that within the next two minutes, people just kept coming in and coming in. It was as if a homing beacon was turned on aboard the mothership and she was calling her babies home. Soon all five stalls were full, and not quietly. As I sat there, the sounds of asses exploding and the grunts of people enduring gut-wrenching bowel expulsion filled the room. And by "filled the room," I mean that the five of us indeed filled the room with a stench only equaled in horror moves. I mean, I usually don't smell other people's shit when in public bathrooms, but this was unbelievable.
Meanwhile a man and his son walk in while the five of us are giving back to society. And as they are at the urinals, the smell hits them. The little boy, probably five or six years old, says to his dad, "Dad, I can't pee in here, it stinks too bad!"
The dad must've looked at his son when he said, "Oh get over it. Just do your business and hurry up." The son started to say something, but the dad cut him off and told him to quit whining.
I could hear a snicker coming from one of the stalls next to me. I wish that was the worst that happened. Suddenly I heard the boy start coughing -- while he was peeing, I assume. It sounded like he was losing control. The smell was attacking his fertile lungs, and it was getting the best of him -- midstream, to boot.
Finally, I heard his dad cuss in disgust. "Dammit! You peed on my leg!" The boy tried to apologize, but he just couldn't stop coughing and hacking. And then he blew chunks. Right on the middle of the floor. The boy started crying and his dad cut his stream short (I'm guessing -- I heard a little whimper of pain like happens when you cut the stream short) and started toward the boy, who had backed away, still peeing everywhere.
Couple this with the sounds of five asses blatting in the background and the grunting of their owners, and you begin to see the beauty of the situation. We sure did. I don't know who was the first to laugh, but when the dad went to pick up his son and ended up slipping on the puddle of puke, all five of us howled in unison.
The dad was cussing the situation and our existence. He was covered in puke and piss and we -- the members of the Fantastic Five, as I have come to call us -- were laughing our asses off. It was as if a little chunk of poo heaven was sliced just right and jammed into that little bathroom that day. Finally the dad managed to grab his son and get out of there as fast as he could. The rest of us were there for ten minutes or more, just laughing and farting and shitting. It was amazing.
I never met the other four guys who were there that day, because I hung back and waited for every last one of them to leave. But I know that we all shared something special in that moment -- something that would be remembered for the rest of our lives.
