Bucky wrote:that makes your mtcal-adjusted OPS what, eleventy billion??

slugsrbad wrote:The joboggi sticht is not funny. I don’t know if he’s someone faking his return or the real deal. I guess I had to be around for the original.

Uncle Milty wrote:

pacino wrote:He's real and he's spectacular

Truth

Bucky wrote:i see the rev posted in the p00p threat. someone let me know if i should break my rule and open that thread if it's something good like in the vein of FYE.

I was on my way down I-77 this weekend for a wedding. On my way down, I decided to stop and see something that I had known had been in Charlotte for years, a comic shop called Heroes Aren't Hard to Find with a cool Doctor Octopus statue that overlooks the whole store. I told my wife I wanted to do this, and she said that this was alright.

Right after that, I stopped by Bojangles for some Cajun biscuits. One for me, one for the wife, my kid was in the back seat sleeping, so he was out. I ate mine, and my wife decides that she doesn't want hers, so I eat that too.

The problem? I'm on metformin for Type 2 Diabetes (yeah, shouldn't have been at Bojangles, but I was craving them). If I eat like that, I tend to have to shit pretty badly.
We turned off of I-77 to go to my shop, and the urge to shit came suddenly and with much aggression. My colon was screaming out with the force of a thousand suns. All had to vacate the premises immediately. However, we were at an intersection with an inoperable traffic light and a local officer was conducting the flow of traffic. My colon was trying to conduct the flow of shit, and I was intent on stopping it. I was thinking to myself, "no, colon! I am in control here! You are the body part! I am the owner of the body!"

Finally, the cop let us go and I started towards the shop. I then ended up stopped behind a school bus while a middle school is letting out for the afternoon. There was a church nearby, and in my home area, some churches are open all the time. I was really, really hoping this might be the case, and the urge was climbing and I couldn't stop it, so I had to make a hail mary effort and at least see if it was an option.
I park next to the church, and it is locked. Two doors down to the church is some building labeled an actor's studio. They seem to have a back yard that is secluded. I needed to go somewhere because the shit was coming, I couldn't stop it, and I didn't want to shit my pants in front of a bunch of middle school students.

I promptly ran behind a studio, and as I ran, a river of liquid shit began to expel from my asshole. I felt great shame.
My shorts were ruined. It was raining. I was miserable.

Next to the actor's studio there was a clearing of some sort and nobody could see me. I began to wallow in my shame and then thought I had to do something about this. As the rain fell on me, I thought maybe I could get the rain to somewhat wash my shorts. My underwear was destroyed and would remain at the clearing, tucked under a shrub.

I had to wash my asshole. It was that watery tan-brown shit with chunks, the kind that gets everywhere. I took my socks off and decided that they would also be casualties. I wiped my ass with my socks, left them with my underwear, and began to wash my shorts with rainwater and leaves. It worked enough to make the shorts wearable.

However, as I was doing this, mosquitos sensed the human excrement around and decided that the source of the shit would make a pretty tasty meal. As I was finishing up, I got very itchy around my legs, and yes, on my ass. They went to town on me, and as I type this I have bites up and down both legs. I look like I have some sort of skin disease. At my worst, the itching was so bad on the drive that I begged my wife to kill me. She refused.

My shitty underwear and socks were abandoned in the middle of Charlotte.