While we are all in this rather unique and precarious situation right now with COVID-19 and have been dealt a nationwide shortage on toilet paper. I thought now would be the perfect time to share my fifth and (to date) final experience of pooping my pants.
We are now nearly a year removed from the events of that evening. The date was April 10, 2019 to be exact. I know this because I have two photos saved in my camera roll that let me know the event happened sometime shortly after 8:00 p.m., as the two images are time stamped at 8:31 p.m.. You’re probably reading this in absolute disgust at the fact that I have ANY pictures of the incident much less TWO, but there have been those in the past who have accused me of manufacturing these stories, so I made certain to send them – and of course all my streaks, I would never want anyone to feel left out – the surprise Snapchat of a lifetime with back to back exposures.
You know what – hold up! I’m so sorry, excuse me, here I am putting the cart before the horse. I’m jumping way ahead of myself here by talking about the aftermath of the event, so let’s go back, back to the beginning…
My dear friend Lindsey and I started that April 2019 evening off with a delicious dinner at a Cutesville mainstay, Ravenelli’s, I couldn’t tell you what we had, but I can assure you it was absolutely delicious because everything there is. Some of the finest Italian food this side of the Mississippi! Following dinner, we took a single lap around what many refer to as the Disneyland of Illinois, Wilson Park. Near the end of our jaunt, I could tell that my stomach was beginning to toss and turn, so rather than walking over to Mr. Twist as we normally would, I suggested we simply just drive as to speed things up a bit.
Now you’re probably reading this and thinking back on my past experiences where lightning struck and I had roughly three minutes till my body erupted in typhoid-like thunder. Well, that hadn’t happened yet, I could just tell that at some point down the road I was going to have to poop, but I figured I was still very much in the safe zone and had plenty of time. Well, I think it’s safe to say my figurations were WAY off!
I remember at Mr. Twist my stomach was lurching a bit more, but I still felt like I was in the clear, so I casually ordered my Twix Bar Concrete and once received, stood there eating a few bites and conversing with Lindsey. I was just a few bites into deliciousness when lightning finally did strike. I had ignored the cautions of my body for too long. It was go time.
I shared this breaking news with Lindsey and we both hopped quickly in my car and I sped off the lot in route back to my house. Mr. Twist does not have public use restrooms as it is just a small walk-up ice cream stand, so this is why we didn’t utilize the facilities there. I sped along the streets that border the park unfortunately like so many others do, too fast. I had finally become one of those people I chide for aggressively driving in a heavily populated and stop sign abundant area, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I was about to become another casualty of myself if I didn’t make the most of the three minutes my body was giving me.
“I can’t believe you’re going to poop your pants again. Ben, what the Hell!?!” Lindsey scoffed in disgust as I drove nearly twice the residential speed limit. “How many times will this even be now!?!”
“Five,” I whimpered back as that familiar sweat began to drip from my now moistened brow.
“FIVE! What in the world! You seriously need to go see a doctor or something because this isn’t right. Grown adults shouldn’t be pooping in their pants this much,” she scolded me while I did my best not to laugh at her accurate remarks.
“There is not going to be a fifth time. There is not going to be a fifth time,” I kept repeating under my breath as Lindsey chimed in with a,
“God, I hope not.”
“There is not going to be a fifth time,” I continued repeating before I could feel that no matter how much convincing of the mind I was attempting to do, I had failed to convince my body. “OH MY GOD!” I yelped out in terror.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Lindsey remarked in disgust.
“There is going to be a fifth time. Oh God, there is going to be a fifth time!” I whined as we drove past the Imo’s with the Disneyland of Illinois in the rearview and Nameoki Road before us. “Oh, shit. It’s happening. Oh shit, it’s seriously happening,” I called out in shame as I sat there in the front seat of my 2014 Dodge Avenger and for the fifth time in my life and the second time in that very seat, defecated all over myself. Regrettably, I found myself in the now all too familiar place of sitting in a self-made diaper of my own stool.
“I can’t believe I’ve been around for two of these! This is so gross!” Lindsey said as she positioned her body so she was basically sitting on the passenger door and as far from me as she could muster inside my car.
“OH LORD! IT SMELLS SO BAD!” I called out in agony as the combined bodily smells of ice cream, pasta, sweet tea, buttered bread, and who even knows what else boiled up from my boxers and wafted heavily through the air around me.
“Thankfully, I don’t smell anyth- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Lindsey cried out in terror as the smell had finally reached her nostrils. She rolled down her passenger side window and stuck her head out as far as she could while continuing to scream. A laugh of disbelief would pop up in there about every second or so, but from the intersection of Johnson Road and Nameoki until we returned to my house about eight blocks further she was screaming and laughing out the car window the whole way. We had – for the second time in our lives – become that thing you see in Cutesville that you would never see anywhere else. (This first time involved a tandem bicycle, but that’s neither here nor there.)
I parked my car in front of the house as I always do and limped up the driveway in disgrace, asking Lindsey to please bring my ice cream inside. As I stood there wrestling with my keys to unlock the door Lindsey yelled out with new horror,
“BEN! OH MY GOD! YOU HAVE DRIPPED ALL OVER THE DRIVEWAY! THIS IS SO, SO, SO, SO, GROSS!” She stood there about halfway up the driveway in deep disgust as I turned around and saw the concrete path behind me littered with little droplets of my diarrhea. “This is so unbelievably disgusting! I’m going to throw up! I literally cannot believe how nasty this is!” Lindsey continued hollering at the top of her lungs as I finally unlocked the door and dashed past Céline, our French Bulldog who was most excited to see me, and upstairs to the bathroom.
I removed all of my clothes to the point I was completely naked and sat down and finished relieving myself. I never let it all go when these moments happen. I always let out what is necessary and keep the reserves right where the rest should be, inside my body. As I sat there relieving myself, Lindsey started hollering to me from the dining room that she had to go pee, so I told her it was going to be a long while before this toilet was in any kind of satisfactory place where someone else could use it.
“SERIOUSLY!?!” She yelled up irritably.
“VERY!” I yelled back down. I avoided for the time being telling her that because I had smeared my stool all across the toilet seat, a good portion of that had been slowly oozing its way down to the base at the floor. No one was going to want to use that toilet till I had sterilized the Hell out of it. It resembled something out of a horror movie – and for me – it felt like one too. An all too familiar franchise that just filmed its fifth installment. My pooper takes great pleasure of terrorizing me and yet again it succeeded in slaughter.
Lindsey yelled back up to me that she was going to leave and go to McDonald’s to pee, but would be back shortly. I told her to please take her time because I was going to need to shower before cleaning all of this up and then I would need to shower again after cleaning all this up.
“WHAT!?! TWO SHOWERS!?!” She hollered up dumbfoundedly.
I then had to yell down explaining to her that I wasn’t about to clean up that bathroom with diarrhea drying itself to my buttox and thighs, that’s disgusting. That shit had to go. Then I wasn’t about to sit there and watch The Incredibles (Lindsey had never seen it and that’s what we had been planning to do before this intestinal interruption) after cleaning up all that nasty ass shit from every which place. Two showers had never been more necessary.
Luckily, after shower one I had thrown all my clothing onto the bathroom rug, which made picking everything up easy and I held it just right, so nothing snuck out and dripped or splattered all over our house floors. I tossed everything into the washer and set the cycle for heavy duty, no way normal was going to cut it this time around. I then went back upstairs and began wiping down the toilet, which had sustained the heaviest injury. It looked like an art project. Like someone had thrown various shades of brown paint at it with their hands until they had run out of said paint and then just wiped their hands all along the side of the basin. I wish I had captured a better picture of this as it was truly a sight that will only live on in my mind, but alas, coulda, woulda, shoulda. I then mopped the floors before wiping down the toilet for a second time. That poor thing had never experienced such tragedy and I needed to make sure it returned to a state infinitely better than where it was when this all started. Poor potty deserved the best after that mess.
By the time I had tidied everything up, the eight o’clock hour was shot, but nonetheless, we stuck to our original plans and watched The Incredibles. The Incredibles 2 was set to drop in a couple months and we couldn’t have Lindsey seeing the sequel without first watching the original, so despite the diarrhea detour, we did everything we planned on doing that night.
Now I’m going to take a moment here to toot my own horn because it genuinely amazes me that despite pooping my pants, an event that one would surely believe to overshadow all others, I can still recall all these otherwise minor details. Maybe like just like the Incredibles, I too am a Super and detailed storytelling just happens to be my power.
As always, THANK YOU so much for reading! I appreciate you greatly! Feel free to leave me a comment below as I LOVE reading and responding to them! I’ll return soon with another all-new post, so until then, I wish you all, all the best!
More pants pooping posts:
I remember your last incident because I tried to call you that night and was later informed of your angry bowels 😂😂😂
YES!!! I remember that too! Oh, what a night! I remember you were dealing with a mess of your own – albeit of a different variety! 😂
Ben your wife…woof!
HEY! You listen here Jorge!🤦🏼♂️😂😂
It’s all coming back to me! 😂 I think I had tried to block this one out but thank you for letting me relive it in such great detail! Why are your bowel movements always akin to someone giving you a coffee enema? 😅😂😂
I’m so happy you were there to share that truly – moving – experience with me! What a night that was for us!
These descriptions were too much! Something I never wanted to visualize! Funny stuff.
Thank you! I take great pride on my descriptives! 😂