Liquid Poo 3.2

I posted this on my myspace account for certain reasons... but thought you'd like to see it too... Why not tell the whole world at once?
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Due to an overwhelming amount of feedback on that last bulletin I posted... here is the full, true account of the time I severely pooed my pants. If you like this story you should subscribe to my blog.

Anyway...

This happened a few years back when I lived in Redding, California. Many people know the story, but I don't think many people in Redding know it. That is all about to change. The incident centers around myself and a friend Nathan Grubbs. I am quite sure that Nathan doesn't even know, but once again... let's just blast that one out of the water.

Every once and a while Nathan and I would get together for steak. We'd head over to his house, usually a few other guys would join and we'd have an all around good time. This particular evening Nathan and I got together and he had made Cajun style steaks or something along those lines. All in all, very good.

My day leading up to this point was very, very busy. I can't really remember all that I did, but I do remember that I had hardly ate anything all day long. Looking back on this incident I now see that this was my fatal error. I have since learned NEVER, EVER to eat steak on an empty stomach.

We had our steaks and then were going to go our separate ways. I think Nathan had to do to the church for some reason and I was heading back home. We were getting into our respective cars and at that precise moment I felt a little rumbly in the tumbly.

To understand guy culture one must take into account the aspect of farting. This is very important in true male circles. Many males are not at all accustomed to sharing feelings and "girly" emotions with each other. We do not feel right complimenting another guy on that great dinner they prepared and how it was just so scrumptious. We have developed an entire language that really uses no real words at all. Phrases like, "Meeehhh", "baaaa", or "splaaaa" can be used in a myriad of ways and depending on the tone and volume we immediately understand if we are saying, "Thank you" or "What a delightful evening that was" or "I understand perfectly, I will see you in an hour."

We have discovered that we can communicate on many different levels as well. Not only does our voice box produce audible sound, but other orifices located around the body produce equally, if not better, tones and nuances which can communicate our emotions to each other.

This evening I felt the rumble in the lower regions. I was quite happy for this for now I could use the higher forms of communication that God has blessed men with to emphasize to Nathan how much I appreciated and enjoyed the evening. One loud, impressive fart would affirm Nathan in a deep manner which would not just bring deep meaning, but bonding as well into our friendship.

I gathered the intestinal strength, waiting to release the blast at the exact right moment. Feeling the pressure building to fantastic proportions I hollered over to Nathan who was getting in his car to get his attention and hear the massive detonation brewing inside of me.

"Hey Nathan!" I yelled.

He turned to me and said, "Yeah?" Now you must understand, at this point one would release the blast, cause the birds in that tree over there to fly away and we'd both know to the exactly what had just happened. True, male complementation on a job well done on the steak.

So I gripped down with everything within me, lifted a leg and let fly what should have been the greatest fart of my life. The only sound that followed was the sound of 3.2 pounds of liquid poo exiting my body at an alarming rate of speed.

Some would call this a "shart", but this was much, much worse then your usual shart. This was seriously the mother load of diarrhea unleashed into my pants and me standing there with a rather shocked look on my face not at all knowing what to do in that moment.

Nathan didn't know at all what had happened. He stood there and said, "Yeah Kayle, what is it?"

Panic mode set in. What the heck do I say now? "Oh Nathan! I'm standing here crapping my pants, just thought you'd like to know!" I didn't know what to do at all. Do you ask to then be let back into Nathan's house so you can use the shower? (for a shower is what was needed) How do you bring this subject up? What would I do after the shower? I couldn't just leave my horridly soiled clothes there. And his towels... so white... His wife Myriah would kill me if I even touched those.

So in my shocked state of mind I just pretended like I forgot what I was going to say and went to plan B. Really... I had no plan B. I was flying by the seat of my pants. Sadly the seat of my pants happened to be full of diarrhea so things weren't going to well.

Nathan drove off and I was left standing there. The best course of action that I could figure at the time was to gently let myself into the car and drive home. Oh yes, did I ever mention that I was borrowing this car at the time? Yeah... it wasn't mine.

I somehow sat down without barfing, rolled down the window and had the worst ride home of my life, praying desperately that I wasn't staining the seat of this borrowed car. I made it home, again praying furiously that nobody was home, waddled to the bathroom and had the strangest shower of my life.

Needless to say, a few articles of clothing made it into plastic bags and straight into the garbage bin outside. I then went back to the car to make sure it was clean and that the wretched smell was not lingering.

For two weeks after this incident I was terrified to fart. How all that poo disguised itself as gas I will never know.

And that, my friends, is the story of the 3.2 pounds of liquid poo.