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| Blogs > emersunbigguns > Blossoms from the Fart Garden |
HomeComing Weekend
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HomeComing Weekend Exercise is not a very important part of my regimen...but at least once a year, I like to get outside and take a brisk walk around the neighborhood. It boosts my energy and gets the old blood flowing. Well, last Saturday, something else was flowing. I had just consumed a luncheon consisting of Chef-Boyardee beef ravioli and three chocolate-flavored SlimFast shakes. That's some good eatin' right there, but my tummy was not happy. Nevertheless, I felt the need to walk off my afternoon repast. So, I changed into my jogging outfit, and hit the trail. The warning signs were all there. I should have turned around after the first stomach cramp. But no, I bravely trudged on, thinking I'd be safe and sound in my domicile well before the shit hit the fan. Indeed, the cramp subsided, and I continued my stroll with confidence. Part of my route takes me right past my old high school, which shall remain nameless. Note: this is a heavily populated suburban area with lots of houses and busy streets. This is also the halfway point of my journey – the point at which I am the farthest from home base. As I neared the school, the cramps returned and increased in intensity. Pressure began to build. Soon it became quite clear that I was not going to make it home. I needed to dump something...and fast. But where? My first option was a thin patch of trees that served as a natural buffer between the school parking lot and the adjoining neighborhood. But with people's back yards in plain view, this area did not provide the privacy I would require. Then I eyed the empty school bus parked in the lot. Perhaps I could leave my deposit in the aisle and let the bus driver deal with it. A hell of a way to start the school year, but that would be their problem. Alas, the door was locked. Desperation was setting in. I waddled with my way ass-cheeks clinched together behind the school and looked for anything I could use for a makeshift bathroom. There was a trailer classroom – locked. There was a dumpster – no privacy. At last, I found my oasis. It was a generously sized equipment room attached to the back of the school – gated, but unlocked! I entered the area and inspected the situation. In one corner stood a dusty propane barbecue. In another corner, a well-worn snow shovel waited for Old Man Winter to make his return. And in the center, a giant funnel-shaped contraption with a trash can positioned under the business end. The can was filled with something that resembled sawdust. What the fuck was that thing? Beats the hell out of me...besides, I had other fish to fry. This area was not entirely enclosed. I knew I had to work fast...and judging from the Vesuvius-like pressure building inside my colon, that would not be a problem. I found an empty corner, wedged myself against the two adjoining walls, and dropped my shorts...along with everything else. Within mere seconds, an enormous mud pie, spewing out like chocolate yogurt, jettisoned itself out of my ass and hit the concrete slab with a loud SPLAT that reverberated off the brick walls and shook the barbecue. As I squatted there and relieved myself, I began to think of the myriad of laws of was breaking: Trespassing, indecent exposure, littering, brandishing a deadly weapon, you name it. Soon, I realized I had another hurdle to overcome. As I squatted in the corner hovering above my fresh turd tart, my thoughts turned to my personal hygiene. I was nearly a mile from my house: How the hell was I going to wipe myself? I searched the area frantically for something that I could use as toilet paper. A lump of coal from the barbecue? (Nah, too awkward.) A handful of sawdust? (Nah, too messy.) I was considering sacrificing my socks. It was most definitely a two-socker. This was an option, as the lining to my Nikes was already shot to hell, and my feet were sore and blistered from the walk. I needed my socks. So reluctantly, I pulled up my shorts, leaving them low enough so as to prevent any direct contact with my crack – basically the way the wear their pants nowadays. I then waddled my way outside and continued my search for a suitable ass wipe. Finally, there it was. Lying on the ground outside the door to the boys' locker room. A<b> damp </font></b>towel. It was like a miracle from Heaven. With great euphoria, I grabbed the towel and quickly returned to the scene of the grime. Two or three passes through my great divide and I was good to go. It was at this point that I got to see my handiwork for the first time. I stood there for several minutes and marveled at the shape and contours of my scatological sculpture. Satisfied that my bowels were sufficiently emptied, I tossed the newly monogrammed towel on top of the barbecue and continued on my journey. But the story doesn't end here. I was several hundred feet from the school on my way home when the unthinkable happened. The cramps returned, and they were just as bad as last time. That's right, it was time for round two, where the points are doubled and anything can happen. I immediately made a U-turn and headed right back to school to "drop off the ", as it was. To my surprise, I returned to find the storage room was now occupied...by a swarm of flies buzzing around my pie. "Fuck," I thought to myself. "Those little bastards didn't waste any time! I'm going to have to start a new pile." So I walked over to the opposite corner, wedged myself against the two adjoining walls, and left an another apple for the teacher. This one hit the floor with such force I think it actually cracked the concrete. Bon appetit, you nasty old flies! This time cleanup was a breeze since I already had my trusty towel standing by. I just found an unused section of terrycloth, ran it through my ass-crack, and draped it neatly across the barbecue to dry out in the sun. At this point I was reluctant to leave. I had already downloaded two enormous piles...but could there be a third? I decided I would take a precautionary lap around the building to make sure the urge to purge did not return. Thankfully it did not, for my ass was raw and my towel was out of clean spots. So I made the long walk home and did some final touch-up work in the bathroom. |
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