If you read my last post then you are familiar with my love of a good poop story. You are also aware that I have an enormous stockpile of them. If you don’t love a good poop story stop reading now and come back in a day or two when we can discuss something not so gross.
My friend Chad has bowel issues. This guy is forever running to the bathroom before he shits his pants. Sometimes he’s successful in getting there in time, other times he’s ends up a hot, dirty mess. Honestly, lots of times he ends up shitting his pants which makes for many great stories. I don’t know if he’s been diagnosed with IBS but I’m 100% certain he’s got something going on because this shit isn’t normal. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve had to 911 it to a bathroom. Seriously.
Chad and his friends had been on a road trip and are headed home when he has a horrible gut attack that has him doubled over in pain. Of course, they are in the absolute middle of nowhere because no one really has a gut attack when they are on a road trip in close proximity to a gas station, right?
So Chad, who was making everyone sick from all of his diarrhea farting, knew he had to make a decision quickly or he was going to shit himself right there. They pull over and he shoots out of the truck like a man on fire, or like a woman who is trying to catch Adam Levine (whichever, you get the point. He was FAST). No one wants to shit their brains out right by the truck they are traveling in with their friends, at least I wouldn’t so I assume that applies to everyone. However, when you’re in the middle of nowhere land is often protected by barb wire fences which is one obstacle you don’t really want to face in this situation.
Chad, traveling like an Olympic sprinter apparently believes he is also now a hurdler at this point and takes the barb wire fence like a true champ, all while squeezing his ass tighter than he’s ever done before. Apparently gut attacks, squeezing your ass, and jumping don’t go hand in hand.
Mid-air, the explosive diarrhea he’s been desperately holding in comes shooting out. Now, I don’t know about you but if I’m going to shit myself silly, I rather be with two feet on the ground, rather than completely air-born.
Poor Chad. Stuck over the barbwire fence, 30 yards from the truck, covered in shit. Things would have been easier for him had there been trees so he’d have leaves to wipe his ass but these things never work out the way they should. He peels off his shorts (covered in shit) and his diarrhea underwear and just sits there, not sure what his next move should be. I’d love to tell you he drug his ass around the ground like a dog to clean up but he decided wiping his ass with prairie grass was a better option. Sounds painful, but what’s a guy to do?
He cleans himself up with prairie grass the best one can, leaves his shorts and underwear in the field, pulls his t-shirt down as low as he can, and makes his way back to the fence which now he has to climb over shitty and completely pantless. It’s hard to say which was the most difficult part of this situation – having to climb over a barbwire fence with his junk exposed to barbwire or seeing the look on his friends faces as they watch him scale the fence. Both equally awful in my book.
The hazing begins as soon as he approaches the fence and only increases as he makes his way over to the truck. Once he gets to the truck he walks to the back of it (on a highway, with no pants but thankfully, in his shoes and socks) to retrieve his bag so he can replace his clothing.
75 miles to a gas station where he can wash his smelly ass. 75 long, hot miles, with the windows down, in a truck with three other guys who have to smell his shit ass and of course, take advantage the situation to completely haze him, like any good friends would do. Or me. Despite the smell, I’d love to have 75 miles to “discuss” the incident.
My best advice is this: if you suffer from IBS, or something similar, do yourself a favor and carry wipes with you everywhere you go. You never know when you’re going to need to clean yourself up. You may also consider stopping the vehicle at the first sign of a gut attack so you aren’t crapping your pants while jumping a fence, or even just shitting yourself, period.
I’d like to tell you Chad learned a valuable lesson and is now carrying wipes with him but such is not the case. I will tell you that Chad has a problem digesting guacamole which has proven, more times than not, to cause him pooping humiliation which we can examine more in-depth in the future.
Let your stomach be your guide. Severe pain is a sign to stop what you’re doing and get yourself to a bathroom. As are smelly farts. Another an indication you need to shit. Don’t ignore what your stomach is trying to tell you unless you want to end up in the Poop Diaries and then, by all means, ignore away. Just let me know whether or not you want me to change your name.