Or you just have poor bowel control and loving children. Something kinda related happened to me yesterday. Before I begin this tale I must confess that although I do have some deviant sexual behaviors I am not a sex offender and I would never ever do anything to hurt anyone and what happened was just a sad, strange cosmic occurrence that only happens when the stars align and some higher power points his finger at you and puts you through the torments of Job.
The day began normal enough for a sunday. I slept in, went for a jog, called my sister, and planned on going shopping for a classy tableware set. I was just hanging around, bored, when my stomach rumbled, calling for sustenance. My roommate was gone for the weekend so I had the place to myself, and like many people, boredom manifests itself in me in the form of endless eating. Compulsive hunger grips me and I devour whatever is in front of me. Not too strange, and I wandered over to the pantry to grab something to eat. Right off the bat I saw a colorful bag of gummy bears. Delicious, I thought. My roommate won't mind if I take a few! I gobbled down a handful, noticing they tasted a little off. Checked the label- they were sugar free. My roommate is diabetic, so that's not too out of the ordinary, and because I was hungry I grabbed another handful for the road.
I got in my car to drive to a certain department store. The gummy bears were quickly devoured and forgotten as my mind filled with thoughts of placemats and spoons. I envisioned endless dinners hosting a variety of people all commenting on my classy kitchen set up. Dreams of celebrities stroking my dishware filled my head. The gummy bears were the furthest thing from my mind. One other thing about me that you should know in order to understand this story is that I have a very healthy sex drive. I am a professional masturbator, making use of portajohns and bushes alike when I am stimulated, which is very often. One habit of mine is hiding in the women's room in stores and listening to the symphony of bowel movements around me as I perch on the toilet like a gargoyle and preen myself like a swan. I've very rarely been caught, and it doesn't hurt anyone. It usually takes about half an hour and I sneak out like batman. Just a hobby of mine, but today it proved to be my downfall.
I got to the store, noted the exits if needed, and made a mental map of where my kitchenware was that I needed to buy. I saw a beautiful woman at the door who looked like my favorite actress Miranda Cosgrove so it was all over- I needed to run to the bathroom to rub one out. No big deal, I do it every week, right? I found the bathroom. Waited until I knew it was safe, and ran in, hiding in the big stall in the corner. I dropped my pants and took my perch on the toilet. Someone came in and took the stall two down from me, and began to gently void her bowels. This is where everything went south.
I noticed as I began to pleasure myself that I was sweating buckets. This is not normal, I thought. No matter. I continued. About 2 minutes after I noticed the sweat, I heard a deep gurgling from within myself. It sounded like someone had pulled the plug on a bathtub full of concrete, or maybe the noise of 20 pigs lapping up at a trough. It resonated loudly enough that my muse in the other stall stopped, and I could feel her detecting my disturbance. What the fuck, I thought. I'm a man who's not ashamed to say that I had a great set of bowels and I know them better than I know myself. I have never made these noises before in my life! However, as quickly as it came, it was gone. My gut settled into its gentle resting state. I cocked my head inquisitively, and my aphrodite recommenced her shit. My temporary confusion was forgotten in the moments of pleasure. Stroke, stroke, breathing heavier, when
WARGLURGURGURGULURGLUUUUURRHRU
I clenched up. Just as the moment a baseball player hits a ball he knows whether it'll be a home run or not, I realized immediately that some sort of demon was about to attempt his flight from my digestive tract. Pain struck from bellybutton to asshole- knives peeling away under my skin. Something sloshing around and begging to be set free. This gurgling scream from inside of me was clearly loud enough for my stall sister to notice, and it took all of my willpower not to bellow out in fear and pain. Thank god I was already in a bathroom, I thought. I normally perch with my legs out of sight because they're very hairy, but desperation prevailed as I steadied my feet on the ground and readied myself for the holocaust that was about to commence.
Many soldiers will tell you (I myself an OEF vet) that the moment before an enemy attack or IED, they felt something "off." Some sort of cosmic warning, a second of david-lynch tension right before the storm hits. For me, I knew the moment I spread my ass on the seat that the storm to erupt was going to be of biblical proportions.
Sweet, blessed god! Shiva, the destroyer! The apotheosis of LostkeyblameHofmann! As I expelled the leviathan from my asshole, I transcended mankind and became sanctified. I flew on a cosmic plane and greeted civilizations, gods, kings, demons. Beezlebub took my hand and escorted Dante and I around Hell. I saw one hundred thousand years of human history. Christ nailed me to a cross and the Romans pulled me off. Satan embraced me and god spit in my face. For 30 or so seconds, I was quite literally out of this world.
In reality, I was merely shitting so hard that my mind took me to another world to distract me from the earthly horrors. I was hooting and screeching like an orangutan giving birth-
"AAAAOOOORRRRROOOUUUUUGHHHHHOHGODMAKEITSTOP"
-while gripping the sides of the toilet so hard I broke a fingernail. My shit was so forceful that it rocketed up and out around my legs and splattered me in my shame. The floor, along with my shoes, was coated in what looked like red-brown acid. The smell was like the waste containers of a thousand abortion clinics or mortuaries. As my mind returned, gasping and crying, I immediately gagged. In a feat of strength that I didn't know I had, I managed to hold my gorge.
However, at this point I knew my cover was up. My old friend from a few stalls down called out, "ohmygoooooood cough are you okay?" I couldn't answer because my masculine voice would betray me and perhaps get the cops involved. "please answer me or I'm gonna like get the worker people! Are you deaaaaad?" Pitching my voice up a few octaves (not an easy feat because I was still gasping and sobbing) I replied "Can you please give me some privacy here?"
Silence. I could feel her brain registering the insincerity of my terrible falsetto. I had to plan, quick. I tore the plastic cover off of the toilet paper container and gave myself the most rapid of wipedowns, stuffing the remainder of the toilet paper in my pants to soak of whatever hellspawn was going to leak of me. Get up, run! I busted out the door, where to my dismay stood my partner in feces. Her jaw dropped and she began to scream at the sight of a 6'2'' man covered in sweat, reeking of the scent of death, with toilet paper sticking out of every part of his clothing. I did the only thing I could do- scream back at her even louder. Fight or flight. I shoved past her, ran through the store (trailing, I'm sure, a wave of radioactive waste) to my car, in which I ran 2 red lights to get back to my apartment in the nick of time for the second wave of suffering. 19 hours later and I still feel like I have a great white shark fetus tearing through my intestinal tract. I soon found out via my roommate that eating those sugar free gummy bears en masse (anything over a couple, really) has a tendency to put peoples' bodies through the Battle of Okinawa.
TL;DR I ate sugarfree gummy bears, destroyed a women's restroom, and touched the face of God.