E R N I E ' S H O U S E O F W H O O P A S S
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A friend of mine was visiting for a couple of days and on his last night we decided to go to Dave and Busters, the arcade for adults. It is a good place to get hammered and play video games. Nothing is more fun for a grown up of the nintendo generation. We drank somewhere between six and seven pitchers of beer between the two of us while blowing a couple of hundred on the great big videogames. Normally this wouldn't have been a problem but I didn't eat all that much and the beer was some microbrew.
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I still have no idea how we made it home but I woke up to Mike shaking me and saying that we had an hour to get him to the airport. I lived about 45 minutes away and keep in mind this was pre 911 so we could still make it. I threw on some pants a somewhat clean shirt and a flannel, and rushed out the door.
About half way to the airport my stomache began to cringe a bit but we couldn't stop because I had to get mike to the airport. So as I am driving 90 weaving in and out of trafic, smoking a cigarette, dooing the poopie dance, and trying not to let Mike know that I am about to shit myself. We finally get to the airport. Thank God it was a light travel weekend and I actually found a parking space that was somewhat close to the elevators.
Mike is taking his sweet ass time because he has no idea the pain I am in from what felt like the alien trying to get out through my ass. With my first step towards the elevators a little fart creeps out and somewhat releived the pressure that had built up. But with the next step another. The next step was another, and another and another. After about ten steps of a walking fart I almost felt relieved because it was just gas and then... OOOps. It wasn't... Hold that in. I was about two or three minutes from the bathroom... I can make it.
We get to the elevator and from across the garage some old farts carrying enough luggage for an african safari call out, "Hold the elevator please!!!" Mike is a nice guy so he stands there holding the door open for them. Meanwhile I standing there trying my hardest not to look too abnormal. In all honesty I must have looked like a heroin adict going through withdraw. I was sweating like crazy and I was squeezing my sphincter shut with every ounce of strength I had and I am backing into the corner just for that extra support.
I start to think of ways I can get out of this horid situation. What if I fake a heart attack. Then I could crap myself and noone would care. Wait I am only 24. That won't work. What about a seisure. No I can't act that good.
The old farts finally get to the elevator, start loading in their 7 pieces of luggage andI let out the biggest fart I have ever let out in my live. To my relief it was mostly gass. I let out a sigh of relief and all three of them look at me like I had just killed Mother Terisa right there in front of them. Mike laughs and the old guy starts loading everything into the elevator. I am in the back corner of the elevator feeling fine when my stomache wrenches again. This was no regular bout of indigestion. It felt like someone had just lit a M-80 off in my lower intestines. I think that last fart just gave the beer shits a running start at my jeans.
I know I am not going to make it. I bolt. I manage to say "see ya later Mike" as I climb over all the luggage in the elevaor and start running for my truck. I have no I dea why I was running for my truck but for some reason if I was going to shit myself I wanted to be close to a get away car. With every step of my full sprint the walking fart from before comes back but now I am running and it isn't all gass. I get next to my truck and nothing is stopping the four pitchers of syrupie beer shits now. I manage to get my belt off and my pants down most of the way, and it starts.
I have a friend that says that a good shit is better than sex. And until that moment I never understood. This was on the level of an orgasm. The difference between so much pain and the relief was incredible. I have to agree with him. This felt so GOOD!!!
There is just one problem I didn't ever go canping as a kid where there wasn't a bathroom relatively close and I have never "hovered" when taking a dump. So this was my first experience at taking a crap while standing up. Let me give you some advice. Take a reasonably wide stance. I now know this because Although I did get my pants off as to not soil them too much while they were on... I did manage to completely cover the back of the legs of my jeans my shoes and somehow one of my socks with greasy shit, and now I am standing in the middle of about a three foot puddle in the middle of an airport parking girage covered in shit.
I managed to get my keys out of my pocket, unlock my door and sit on the edge of my door sill. I had no TP and everything from the waist down is covered in shit. The jeans are done, my wallet drenched and even though I thought about it I didn't want to smoke any of those cigarettes. So I take off my shoes and prop my feet against the inside of my door. I didn't even hesitate to think about saving the shoes. Plop into the puddle. I took off my socks and tried to wipe somewhat with the dirty one, it helped a little bit but that made more mess than it cleaned so I saved the other one. I took off my jeans and left them too.
Now I had only one delima. I have no pants no underwear and I still have to pay for the parking to get out of here. I picked back up my jeans to try and get my wallet but it was a gonner. I pulled out my credit cards and my ID, they wiped off ok and threw them in the floor boards. But everything else had been soaking for a while, anything that could soak up the liquid shit, did. It all stank. I pulled out a twenty for parking and left the rest.
Standing on my shoes in the middle of my newly created lake I took off my flannel an in conjunction with my other sock made the crudest adult diaper known to man. At least I was covered somewhat. As I am giving myself a pat on the back for handeling this delima somewhat, someone yells "What the fuck?!?" I look behind me and a couple of rows of cars behind me is a golf cart with a security guard standing there with the most perplexed look on his face.
I jump into my truck and rip out of my space, and take off. But you know how parking girages are. It was a freaking maze. I start following the signs to go to the exit and it takes me right by my old spot. The security guard is standing there pointing at my piece of art and screaming into the radio. I got out of the girage but now for the parking toll booth.
Thank God that airport parking atendants hate their life. She never looked at me. My toll was a couple of bucks. I hand her the soiled twenty, the gate goes up, "Keep the change" and I take off. I felt that she should get a tip for handeling shit laden money.
For the first time in my life I didn't speed I didn't cut anyone off I drove with the cruise control at 50 because I didn't want to get pulled over and have to explain this to some cop who would love a great story to tell the guys back at the station house.
I finally got home went straight to the bathroom pealed off my adult diaper put it in the trash and took a shower. And amazingly enough 50 bucks worth of that new car smell realy dose work.