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Thread: A great poop story!!! Yes, a poop story.

  1. #1
    Plumbing Designer FloridaOrange's Avatar
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    Default A great poop story!!! Yes, a poop story.

    I hope this isn't innappropriate and I'd understand if Terry or another mod would like to delete this - I won't take any offense.

    I figured plumbers as a general rule have one of the greatest sense of humors when it comes to bodily functions. I ran across this story at the SVT forum (SVT as in Ford Cobras and such) and I wanted to share this with you guys. I cracked up the first time reading it, my co-worker was in tears!
    Here is the link to the original: Original post for this story.

    I copied and pasted it to make it a little easier for those who wish to read it.


    Quote Originally Posted by Lightning Larry
    All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning
    computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething
    cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over
    forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the
    process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal,
    following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch
    at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with
    subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things
    would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order
    for my wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way backto the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go.
    I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have
    numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:

    0.Occupied.

    1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

    2.Poo on seat.

    3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

    4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of
    toilet.

    Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and
    sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. I wasn't happy about being
    next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

    I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds
    of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone
    conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of
    Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Sh1tter was blathering to Mrs. Sh1tter about the sh1tty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

    Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer
    cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand
    against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded
    with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone
    ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall.
    The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not
    unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency
    of the stall, and it shook gently.

    Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became
    apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's
    continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the
    bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a
    gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way underthe stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had
    ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

    "Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of
    choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear
    that (gag)??"

    Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear
    that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and
    blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in
    me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later,
    in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to
    ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now,
    all I could do was hang on for the ride.

    Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he
    desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made
    themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up...
    in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..."
    followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

    Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at
    the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding
    down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear
    words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

    There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I
    could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal
    announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily
    into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a
    fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him
    running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

    After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage.
    I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew
    that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that
    unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

    As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl.
    Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom
    with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

    I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a
    face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the
    bathroom.

    Do your business and get out.
    Matt
    Semi-professional plumbing designer
    Enjoying life in SW Florida

  2. #2
    Master Plumber Dunbar Plumbing's Avatar
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    Default Oh well, here's mine!!

    Good one Florida Orange! That one is gunna get some mileage as I'm heading to other forums with that one!


    True Story:

    My girlfriend and I at the time would always stop by Service Merchandise and other storefronts after a big meal on Sundays at the local buffet.

    SM had been doing some remodeling and that was besides the point: I gotta go and now!

    I take the first door that "used" to be the mens restroom (I worked there years ago one christmas season) and proceed to do my business.

    In the heat of the moment, I realize there was flowers on the lavatory top. Flowers? It doesn't matter; gravity is bestowed to me in dangerous fashion. Then, I notice that the bathroom is clean, CLEAN! Like a man has never entered foot into when it comes to men's restrooms across the globe. Finally, I see that stainless steel rectangular box on the stall wall and now it dawns on me; I'm in the women's restroom.

    I'm certainly not going to stop what nature brought me in to do, it's too late and all systems are go.

    Apparently a elderly woman had entered the bathroom and noticed the rather extremely large size 17 Oxford shoes I was wearing. Knowing that there was no earthly possible way that it was a woman's pair of feet, she left.

    She reported to management that there was a rather large man in the womens restroom with large feet!! Hahaaaaaahaaaaa!!!

    Now I'm stuck. My girlfriend now partially opens the door, sheepishly calls out my name, I respond "Yes?"

    "Do you know where you are at?"

    "Yes, I'm sitting on the toilet taking a ****!"

    "No, You're in the women's restoom."

    "Whelp, I can't stop what's already came out, I'll be out in a jiffy!"


    Now....laughter is heard, lots of laughter with my girlfriend leading the group.

    I come out of that bathroom, the entire electronics department, half the staff, half the customers are all moving away from me as they know I'm the one who used the bathroom who scared the old lady away.

    I made somebody's day taking a huge dump and a old lady is probably in therapy as a result. Whoops!


    Ahh, the memories. I enjoyed the moment even though it was a leeeetle embarrasing.
    Read what the end of this sentence means.

  3. #3
    Plumbing Designer FloridaOrange's Avatar
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    Default

    That's funny! Good thing you were apparently in a store with a sense of humor!
    Matt
    Semi-professional plumbing designer
    Enjoying life in SW Florida

  4. #4

    Default

    My uncle at a Dophins football game had to go "now" He ran into the bathroom right before half time. He tells me this is one of those sweat running down the forehead kind. Suddenly he hears high pitched voices and there are lines forming outside the stall. He's in the girls bathroom. He's now holding his pants up to his knees because they are trying to look under the door. He didn't want them to see his leg hair.

    They were cursing at him through the door and stuff. He spent all of half time in there! Lol.

    Tom

  5. #5
    Consultant cwhyu2's Avatar
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    Default

    I had to print that one out to share.Laughed so hard that I had to go!

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