It's 2002 and school has just started back up. I'm an innocent little 12 year old boy sporting my University of MD Juan Dixon jersey, and excited to be go to a monster truck show with my dad. It's not my first time, but I'm still hyped. We drive over to the civic center, load up on tasty concession foods, and find our seats. As the side shows are going on I dig into a chili cheese dog and some fries, unaware of the horror that would later take place...
After what seemed like an hour or so of motorcyle tricks, destruction derbies, and the consumption of another chili cheese dog, the real show is finally starting. Big Foot and Grave Digger are tearing shit up and, lost in the excitement, I don't notice the warning signs my body is letting off. The rancid farts are hard to smell over the fumes in the air. The belly grumbles were mistaken for the vibes coming from the awesome monster trucks demolishing cars. At some point towards the end of the show, it hit me like the El Torro Loco truck that was utterly wrecking cars in the field. What do I do?! On one hand, I need to poop right away but, on the other hand, I'm 12 and these trucks are bad fucking ass. Despite the raised hairs on the back of my neck begging me to handle the situation, I remain and continue watching the show. Then it happened... I could feel it. The turtle head was gasping for air. At this point, my tiny little 12 year old buns could no longer contain the evil within. In a panic, I book it for the nearest bathroom. I hear my dad calling to me in the background, but I keep moving. There is no time for explanations.
By the power of grey skull, I somehow manage to navigate to a stall, my butt cheeks in a vise grip, but it is all for naught. In a struggle with getting my pants down, it's too late. I have failed the mission. As my pants drop and I try to make a proper seal between my butt and the toilet seat, my asshole errupts like a dormant volcano. It's a fireworks show, shit is plastered everywhere but in the toilet bowl. At this point, I cannot sit on the seat, as it is covered in a soupy poo. I raise the seat(with caution not to touch poop), and I hover to finish off the deed. As I go to wipe, I turn and see the damage. It's bad. There is a good 4 foot by 4 foot area of solid splatter. The seat is covered, as well as the handle and the floor surrounding the sides of the toilet. Equipped only with a roll of super cheap civic center toilet paper, I have no chance at attoning for my sin, so I flush the bit that managed to make the bowl, and when the coast is clear, I run, praying that nobody discovers that the warzone that is stall #1 was my fault... I never looked back, and it never caught up to me.
To this day I feel bad about what happened in that otherwise peaceful stall...
Also copy paste
It's all good
