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Submitted by AJ (Dear Green Place, Some State) on 11.10.13

I was at the cinema with a friend one Saturday evening and we had some really nasty jalapeņos on our plastic-cheese nachos. They tasted good at the time and we ignored the hell which was likely to follow.
After the film, we went back to my mate's place for beers and banter, falling asleep on the couch at stupid o'clock.
Pretty early - and long before I was ready to cope with it - my pal had to get to work and just threw me out. I didn't even get toast or tea from the rude prick!
And so I set of home in dire need of what felt like a very turbulent crap. There was is a lane that leads from his place up a hill and to where I used to live with my parents. The walk up there normally took 10 minutes, but I was walking in my heels with super-flexed quad, trying my best not to shit myself. At the end of the lane I could see another friend's house. Could I chap his door, barge in and make a mess of his toilet before I could even explain? He probably wouldn't have been it at that time of the day, so it would have been his bemused parents (we were about 16 or 17 at the time) who would have answered the door to this hungover, quaking wreck.
No, I couldn't put myself through the indignity, so I soldiered on towards home, by which time I was walking like an injured Danny Jules-John.
Then it happened. I crowned way too much for comfort and it pushed its hot, acidic way out of my body and into my sorry boxers. I was acutely aware of the battle for space in there as I could feel the resistance of my jeans force the mass downwards. It certainly stopped me in my tracks, let me tell you.
I shook my right leg and most of the poo tumbled down my hairy legs and onto the pavement. This was about year 2001 and I was a moderate mosher, so I was glad to be wearing mega-baggies; 501s would have made this episode unbearable.
The rest of the walk home subjected me to relief and shame in equal measures. The worst part was that I could feel a heavy glob of wet turd on the inside of my jeans swinging and rubbing against my leg, just behind the knee. With every step, I noticed the poo gripping onto my hirsute leg and then get tugged away by the fabric. It got colder as I walked home.
Those jeans got put in a bathtub of bleach. My brother and I went for a walk later that day and I showed him the turd. He nearly pissed himself laughing and said that no passer-by would believe that a dog had done that.
In a way I'm glad it happened because I still smirk about it to this day.

Vote:Yeah! You Shit the *Shit* out of yourself! 550 Not So Much 503


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