I am confident to say that everyone has at least one good poop story. More specifically, most people can probably recall a time when they experienced shit in a place it didn’t belong.
Being that my family is convinced I’m obsessed with all things butts, it was pretty clear a post needed to be dedicated toward that.
I believe everyone has a poop story because we’ve been defecating since before we were born. Seriously, how are more babies not born with raging pink eye?
Shitting is a pretty common occurrence assuming you consume enough fiber. Therefore, at some point, you’ve probably experienced shit somewhere other than your toilet or your ass…hole. That would be considered your poop story. You don’t exactly tell it as the ice breaker when meeting new people but it’s a crowd pleaser to those you trust.
For your reading pleasure, I’ll share with you mine.
A few years ago I visited some friends in Gainesville, Florida. For those of you who’ve never been, there is a college with a pretty good football team surrounded by a ton of bars, in the middle of nowhere. Driving from Orlando, I was planning on staying from Friday through Sunday for homecoming weekend. Being a community college-er myself, the game wasn’t as appealing as the mass amounts of alcohol and weed were.
Because it was homecoming weekend, Gainesville was effing packed. As if there aren’t enough college kids there already making poor decisions, that number doubled. Parking was a nightmare so when I found some sketchy side-street with a free spot, I parked.
I don’t recall the exact series of events but we managed to get free drinks at some Jewish building my friend belonged to (l’chaim!) see the Steve Miller Band play at the stadium and make it to a few parties. I do distinctly remember telling someone community college makes you more responsible than attending a university. It was likely the joints talking at that point but I definitely hear a bit of bitterness in my voice.
The next morning was horrific. I peeled myself off of my friends floor because that’s where I set up shop. Apparently repeated attempts at getting me to wake up were not met with consciousnesses. Black out isn’t exactly the word because I wasn’t coherent enough to move about without a memory of it. I just fell the fuck asleep, face down, on the floor. What’s the saying again? Beer before liquor, never been sicker. Beer with weed makes you really fucked up. I think it’s something close to that.
I somehow made it through the blazing heat in a crowded stadium for a game I didn’t care about. Grateful to be there, of course, but I was more concerned all the stadium hot dogs in the world wouldn’t cure the shakes. But I made it, I managed to see the Florida Gators play and not tumble down the bleachers.
Walking back to her house, the weather was finally catching up with October. Remembering I had a jacket in my car and remembering I had a car, I thought the adult thing to do would be to check on it. Ya know, just to make sure I still owned one that hadn’t been stolen and driven into a lake. Better yet, to make sure some hobos didn’t make it their penthouse suite for the night. Another fun fact about Gainesville is their rampant homeless population.
Approaching my car I remember looking up to see someone sitting on their porch, waiting. Waiting for me to get in, waiting on someone to arrive to their house? Not exactly sure but they were waiting for something.
I opened the driver-side door and sat down to get a full look inside. Being that this was somewhere around 2007-2008, I was mainly concerned about my CD collection which was likely worth more than the actual car.
Then it hit me. Kind of like Shailene Woodley said about love in the Fault in Our Stars. Slowly, then all at once the overwhelming smell of shit-corpse-demon breath choked me. Because I was confident Bath and Body works didn’t carry this type of air freshener, I knew it was something else in my car.
Looking around with a a grimace on my face and closed mouth, I couldn’t find the source. Not on me, not in the passenger seat, not looking over my shoulder into the back seat. Nowhere.
Getting out of the death stench-mobile and gasping for clean air, I noticed that porch-sitting someone still looking at me. At this point, their expression had changed from waiting to relief.
Reaching for the backseat door handle and pulling the door open, my glance went from the porch person to my backseat.
There it was. On the seat, baking in the crisp October air. A GIANT, FUCKING, HUMAN, TURD.
Someone took a shit in my car.
Your reaction should be somewhere between shock, silence then slow and nervous laughter. That’s basically the same way every single person has reacted to this horrific day.
To sum it up and not deter(d) from the impact the revealing moment had on you, I’ll run through what happened from there.
Car Turd Summary
- I shut my door and found out the person on the porch were now people and they knew what was waiting for me the entire time. I somehow managed to find out they saw someone do it the night before.
- Basic math told me that turd fermented in my car for a solid 15 hours.
- I walked back to the house and literally said to my friends “I don’t know how to tell you what I’m about to tell you so I’m just going to say it. Someone shit in my car.”
- Cue above reaction or repeat the one you had.
- To prove I wasn’t lying about feces in my car, we walked back over so I could show them. Naturally, we developed an extraction plan.
- I had to remove the turd by myself because you can’t really fit a team in the backseat of a Mazda.
- Neighbors watched.
- After the removal, I scrubbed any trace amounts of it. Luckily, the person was not sick and had a very healthy turd for me to remove.
- I re-parked my car within sight.
- People asked me if I was the girl with the turd in my car.
- My friend packed me a bowl and we smoked on her porch because she deemed I needed it.
- The next day I drove 2 hours home with my windows down and my mouth closed.
I might have set the bar pretty high but I am still curious and excited to hear, what’s your poop story? If you can top mine I promise to send you some Quilted Northern.