I didn’t go to work today. Why?? Well cos I had diarrhoea. Not any kind, but the nasty kid that gets you shitting out white frothy milk like semi-slush, out of your arse. The kind that got you sitting, resting your elbow on your thighs, knees up, perching on your toes, chin in your palms, shuddering as the spasms hits you time after time. But nothing comes out, well as least not for the first five attempts and when it does come, only about a table spoon of the gushy stuff is released, which to you might feel like a cooking spoon worth of slush.
My sphincters are in need of irrigative washout, total kaput. It is already holding up a sign saying no more shit.
I went out with a friend to the movies, earlier today. Then we went to kfc to buy those 99p chicken wings, we had 18 in total about 6 pounds worth of chicken wings, then we had root beer, we then transferred ourselves to woolies for exactly 3.69 pounds worth of toffee, came home for a coconut and pistachio ice cream to finish it off as well as home made mango lassie.
Looking back at it now, that was a bit excessive but at that time it didn’t feel like it. The warm glow in the evening, the laughs and the looks and I didn’t realise what I was letting myself in for.
Well, to late now as I am now in the mercy of my digestive tract. Should it decide to process some more gunks from my stomach, I am basically dead.
Everything just passes straight through, on the way getting discoloured, mashed and diluted with a bit of chilli added for variety.
Ooooooooogh! I am in pain and I need help. HELP! You hear, I need help.
All this desperation brings me back to the first time I invited my lovely over to mine. I had slaved over and cooked on my “3 ringed cooker a’la one burnt out electric stove”. Needless to say I had performed some miracles that day, boiled rice and made stew. It was tasty.
I had bought the meat for the stew from the local joint, though thinking back I shouldn’t have gone against my better judgement I was to lazy what with all the shopping bags, I just made the joint my last point of call and settled for everything there. The joint shop sells everything, from rat tails to antelope balls to camel legs, you know what I mean. What ever you want, ask him and give he will get for you give or take a little waiting as getting to the meat traffickers and getting meat past custom might take a few waiting for. I got about 3 pounds worth of goat meat. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t buy meat from there but like I said I was kinda desperate to impress. Meat that had probably been in that freezer for about 115 months. Meat that could have been contaminated with all sorts of junga and shit in the glass standing freezer that anyone and everyone opens while glancing about for their meat of choice. In that same freezer, everything in compacted, goat meat, fish, octopus meat, cow tail. Shaki, mussel, Australian bush meat, basically everything. No concept of separating and then just find a space attach the label on the meat and shove in the freezer.
Well. Like I said desperado.
True to my nature and probably everyone Else, when I cook I munch away at cooked and uncooked alike as long as it tastes good and there is no taste of blood or mistaken swallowing of ants or bugs hiding there. I eat everything in my path until my tummy is full, and then again the smell of cooked food always fills me up.
To cut the long story short, you guessed it. He had a nice time, good food interesting company. My lovely had to spend the night over but as I didn’t have a spare bed (don’t even say it, basic platonic shit by then) he slept on my bed with. So by the time we were ready to sleep, my tummy started making this runny noise sound just like when water trickles into a plug hole. Trickle, trickle, trickle, trickle.
Whatever was in my stomach was slowly being released enmasse like a damn full of water into my intestines. My tummy was bloated, and I had to take repeated breaks to my room to let of the gas and for a whiff of perfume round my back regions.
Anyway, my intestines not being ready to receive such a massive onslaught, done what it does. It let loose.
You know, at that point, you cannot but realise something is amiss somewhere, at that point things can only go two ways, shit your pants before u get to the toilet or make a big smelly fart with p there.
Well, I managed to excuse myself to my room again and let out another by then fermented fart that stank like a 4 day old baby poo (since we all know that adult shit don’t smell like that, or at least that’s what I think). This time I used my most expensive perfume I had, sprayed at the base of my trousers and drew a circumference round me to draw out the smell.
I went back to the room and my lovely suggested that he sleep cos he is an early sleeper. I followed suit but before I did I had a drink of salt and water because by then my tummy was aching in a very mild kind of way. I was sweating and silently praying that whatever dam has created itself in my belly, it should not overflow. I kept hoping that maybe, maybe if I went to sleep, what I suspected to be gooey mash will solidify a bit then it wont be all that bad, cos I could control it by clamping my butt cheeks tight.
No such luck there mates.
I lay down, said my prayers, put my hands o my tummy and rubbed it protectively, cradled it and thought, oh! That feels good. I started begging Sleep please come fast. My eyes were beginning to dwindle shut, there was no noise at all, the normal cars moving outside didn’t even register in my mind, I was slowly being drawn into sleep.
Then, it hit me! All this rush of fluid straight into the last 5cm or so of the tract. I got up in a flash for the toilet.
Once I hit the toilet seat, Pow!! Massive flow of droplets, atom bombs and shit missiles, coupled with some noisey, at times, silent farts of fermented shit. It didn’t stop not for about 2 mins. By then my arse hole was throbbing and hot, shudder after shudder, spasm after spasm, the thing got me and I off-loaded some more. The whole room stank like mad.
I was mortified, from my royal seating position though the window was next to me above the sink, I couldn’t reach it without having to perch carefully above the toilet making sure that my shit hole was in line with the skirting of the toilet rim.
But anytime I tried that, another gush of gunk proceeded to offload from the sphincter.
The air freshener that I normally keep in the bathroom for such occasions was then conveniently placed on the edge of the bath far far away from my reach. I cursed myself for that. Why in the world would I put it there in the first instance -Presentation that’s why!
To make matters worse the door to the bathroom was bad, in that it could be opened from outside not inside, and in my rush for the bowl I just barely closed the door so what I done was to place a towel in its path so I wont be locked in. now comes the interesting part.
The bathroom is just next door to my room and my room door was widely open.
I couldn’t help myself in there and I began making these helpful and unavoidable noises in aid of squeezing every last drop of hot burning shit out of my arse, while at the same time hoping that my lovely wouldn’t hear me. After about 20 minutes when he didn’t see me, he came out to inquire after me. He came out of the room and called my name, almost instinctively I replied back I am in the toilet. Mortified that he will come out nearer to the door and get a whiff of my foul smelling shit and turn back away. Conveniently for the forces of fate, when I had finished my onslaught, and went back to bed, though my hole still burned and stung me, my belly was ok.
What is it about toilet habits that makes us turn into diddys?
One mention of toilet functions and there are muffled sounds, a flashback or two at the last time your dad or even your spouse or someone close to you walked in on you while you were seriously attending to the expulsion of unwanted faecal matter from your totally burnt out anal passage. Your anal sphincter so hot and so red that you could bake a doughnut in there.
Till today, I have problems taking a shit in someone else’s toilet. If I do, I am forced by the pressure accumulation from my rumpled folds.
Imagine the possibility taking a dump in a friend’s house
Smell
Time factor
No Water flusher
Accidental walk in
The list is endless.
For guys taking a dump is second nature, just like farting, there is no shame in that. For ladies it is meant to be a discreet affair. Something not to be discussed at all. Not to be laughed at either.
Oh, imagine the shame
What knickers did you wear, what colour were they, were you on your period, if yes pad or tampon?? Red hot shame!!
Sweaty beads of perspiration on your brow and upper lip. That sinking feeling in your bottom heart.
Imagine your skirt/trousers, rustled at the bottom of your thighs or ankle. The flash in your eye, alarm!
Just thinking about it makes me cringe.
Yes my fellow chicklets, it has happened to me too. It’s the same old song. And in my case a fine looking bloke for that matter, till today I can never look him in the eye, cos I am just so embarrassed, it happened at work.
I spent 10 minutes of my break sitting on a toilet reading as book. The last 5 minutes of my solitude in silence was spent on forcing a lump or faecal matter out of my ever so delicate and small but unduly resourceful arse hole.
I tried and I tried but it won’t budge.damn1
I was in a hurry to get back as I could not afford to be late.
I was still on the way to a wage increase and I needed 4 months of continued improvements to gain the rise and for sure I was not about to mess that up.
And to think that I only went in for a pee and I just decided to sit there and read a bit and thought “why not empty the toxin collection a bit?
There I was now with this unmovable shit.
I pushed and pushed, made the occasional accompanying noise to aid ejection, I even talked to it, I begged it but it still won’t budge.
Yes! It’s hard to grasp at first, so don’t. Just take it as it comes. I talk to everything.
I talk to the moon, to my umbrella, to the wind when it decides to embarrass me; I talk to the foxes on my way home from work.
I sat there pushing just like a woman in throes of labour, then the idea came to mind- why not vacuum evict it?
Voila!
See I am a resourceful girl.
Anyway, there I sat in all my pride and glory, big black fat arse, almost engulfing the toilet bowl, balancing ever so gracefully lest the toilet should come off as it was tilting/shaking a bit.
So there I was in squat position, squeezing and clenching my cheeks, then a brief moment of relaxation to allow air to travel through the cracks in my not so unplugable hole, and I repeated the process.
Then I sat down with a thump. Oh crap, I didn’t really decide to sit, I was forced to, as my legs were already cramping a bit.. The strain of carrying about my big buttocks.
Anyway to cut the long story short. Success at the end of day is what it’s all about. And I did find success thank God; I managed to lodge the offending piece out of where the suns don’t shine.
But guess what, … when I turned round to have a look at the piece, what I thought was something big was just a minuscule thing., a little small shit that felt so big that i had to degrade myself in evicting it in such a manner.
Guess what again, another became lodged in its place.
There I was going through the process of evicting again, at the point of squatting and huff puffing then the intruder walked in.
The joys of having only one toilet in the work compound.
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