TMI Thursday: The Towering Poo-ferno

If this does not sate your thirst for awesome TMI stories, then check out all the other glorious tales of things we probably shouldn't tell at LiLu's home for the staunchy raunchy, TMI Thursdays!

So, be honest. How many of you thought that I only had two days' worth of material after coming back from Thanksgiving with my wife's family? No, friends, lovers, co-workers and various other internet folk, two days was not enough. The third day, in fact, is a TMI post. That's three days worth of material.

Speaking of three days worth of material...Nah, let's just get on with the story.

I have decided to dedicate this post to becky's friend Bruin, the poop-eating dog. Follow the link and you'll understand why.

I was warned before we got there that my wife' aunt and uncle had a special kind of sewage system in their subdivision. Essentially, what I was warned, was that it wasn't very powerful, and could get clogged easily. My wife said "You'll have to be careful about how much you put down the toilet at one time." I heard "I don't care how tightly you have to clench, don't use the crapper."

This was my plan. I mean, we were going to show up Wednesday night and leave sometime on Friday so that my wife could get back at a decent time for work on Saturday morning. No problem. Sure, I'm a man what likes to poo and all, but I can hold out for a little under 48 hours, right?

Plus, I have this issue that, when I travel, I usually have a little problem making when I first show up in my habitat. Most likely, it's because I don't drink enough water while driving from Point A to Point B. I think we know why.

So, there we were. Wednesday night, no problem. Sure, my body is missing my special quiet stinky time, but I don't need to poo. Time to sleep and, since I've never had an issue where I shit the bed, Fred, there should still be no problem.

Thursday rolls around and, yeah, sure, my pants are feeling a little tight around the waist, but I'm good. I got this. I don't care how much cold ham I'm throwing in on top of this. I can handle it. I can do it. Half a roll? I'm good. Teaspoon of mashed potatoes? Bring it on.

As the day moved along on Thursday, I had rehydrated enough that I could feel some movement, but nothing too bad. I could make it through the day. Whoops. There's a little pooter. But that's alright. Nothing behind it. Hell, it didn't even stink too badly. *cough*cough*eyes watering* Yep. Doesn't smell too bad at all.

Friday morning and, hey, we're leaving in a few hours! Good thing, because I've got a pretty solid heavy feeling down below and the poots are coming a little more often now. No problem! We'll just get on the road and I'll stop somewhere for drinks and to fire off a Paul Bunyan-esque log. Babe the Blue Ox will be so proud! I got this. No problem.

Hmmm...this French toast thing isn't sitting too well. It's pressing down on the load beneath it. Not much to worry about, though. We'll be on the road soon.

Wait? What's that, dear wife? We're taking the kids to the park in a little bit? But, I've got the car packed. Everything's ready to go. Okay, okay, fine. We can go to the park. It's a lovely day. It'll be fun. Yeah. No problem. I'll just go when we're on the road.

*shifting uncomfortably in my seat*

Hey, uh, are we going to the park soon?

Oh.

Hmmm. That one stinks. Oh, and, hey. Turtling! We're sticking around for lunch, too? After the park?

Dammit.

Hold my calls. I'll be back.

So, I head off to the restroom that's right beside the room where my mother- and father-in-law are sleeping that's nearest at hand. I can deny this no more. I've got two and a half days of shit that needs to be released, and it's not waiting anymore.

I drop trou. I sit. I see the little placard that is required, by law, to be in every bathroom in the house. Ah, they have an effluent sewage system. Okay. Nothing other than solid waste and toilet paper can go down the toilet. Fine. I'll try not to drop my tampons or my cigarette butts down the toilet. Heh. They say I can't flush condoms down the drain. Guess my wife will have to swallow. Heh. I'm so fucking funny.

Okay. This is serious business now. The fury is about to be unleashed.

My friends, have you ever taken a shit so massive that you feel empty afterwards? Maybe not empty, but hollow? You know, the kind where you swear you can feel something moving up under your arms as you're feeding poo slowly into the awaiting mouth of the deuce-gobbler? That's what I felt that Friday afternoon. Well, that and sweet, blessed relief. I might have started singing hymns I was so happy to be rid of that turdlog. I'm pretty sure my toes curled as I let it go.

The curious thing though? I heard no splashing. No plopping. No dropping. No spray on my ass as solid hit water. Apparently, I force-fed a mighty, unbroken leg of lamb down the toilet.

Finally, relieved, I stood to clean myself. Looking back, I saw something that, frankly, frightened me. Not only was it long, as I had surmised, but it was multi-colored! Worse, it was girthy.

As I stood, transfixed by the incredible mass of shit that had just left my body, it began to move. No, don't worry. There was nothing living inside of it. I stood there and watched as it collapsed under its own weight!!! Impressed, I gave it a golf clap. And then I flushed.

And then I flushed again.

And then I began to clean myself up.

And I flushed again.

And I finished cleaning myself up.

And I flushed again.

And then I gave everyone a courtesy flush.

It was a first for me, dear friends (well, those of you who made it this far, anyway): a five-flusher.

I'm not sure what an effluent sewage system is, but I'm fairly certain that, if it has any sort of sentience about it, it's demanding I be banned from the neighborhood ever again.

The best part? My pants fit better. And that was important, just in time for lunch and all. Yes, indeed, did I feel better.

And then, to spite them all, I heated the ham up in the microwave.