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This is a question Bedroom Disasters

Big Girl's Blouse asks: Drug fuelled orgies ending in a pile of vomit? Accidental spillage of Chocolate Pudding looking like a dirty protest? Someone walking in on you doing something that isn't what it looks like?... Tell us about your Bedroom Disasters

(, Thu 23 Jun 2011, 15:14)
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The fart that launched a thousand shits
So It was my friend Gary's 20th birthday. We'll call him Gary, for his real name was James. Gary, being a bit of a lad, decided that he'd like to go out for a bender pub crawl in London, have some good food and then go meet some fine ladies at a club. Sounded like a plan, we'd all meet in Leicester Square at 12pm and get things kicked off. I'd woken up with a bit of a funny tummy that morning, but nothing that was going to stop me having a good time. One of Gary's mates, Tony, decided it would be a great plan if we all downed a shot of tequila before each pint during the pub crawl. He'd also brought along a shitload of tabasco sauce to 'brighten up' Gary's pints of lager while most of us drank ale. It wasn't many pints later before we were all keen enough (and drunk enough) to start knocking up some macho points by necking shots of tabasco. I think I must have done five or so. Content that we'd proven to the world just how unbelievably cool we were, we headed off for some food. Spice still on the tongue, we headed into a relatively swanky looking curry place. By this point my stomach was REALLY starting to protest, but the tabasco sauce seemed to have passed through so I thought "fuck it, what's a curry going to do?"

...One extra hot chicken madras later, and Gibbons innards were not having a good time. I could feel my duodenum churning, twisting and turning. We paid the good men at the Indian and wandered through the now darkened streets to a club. I can't remember the name, but it was a fucking dive. There were groups of what looked like crack dealers amongst barely conscious women in darkened corners. The woman (at least I think she was a woman) behind the bar sounded like Barry White and had a tattoo of a snake on her neck. We downed a round of tequilas and danced for a bit.

My memory is hazy by this point - we've had 10 pints and 11 tequilas, and Gary got thrown out shortly after we started dancing for punching a lesbian "right in the fadge" as he put it, so we headed back to the outskirts of London on a train. Gibbon's innards were screaming with grumbles of protest by this point, and I was having serious regrets over that curry, let alone the 10 pints of beer, 5 shots of tabasco and 11 tequilas. Arriving home I quietly headed straight for the bog, trying not to wake my flatmates who didn't know I'd been out drinking, and released a long, foul fart that the devil himself would have been proud to have spawned.
...Nothing followed. "Is that all you were groaning about?" I chortled to my guts, before swaying to bed....

...11am I woke up to the foulest stench that could ever befall a human being. Words cannot describe the abhorrent, rancid, effluent malodour. It was utterly atrocious, and instantly made me retch. Vomming into the bin, I turned around to see the source from whence such sin arose: a vile, stinking pile of reddish-brown splutterings, literally COVERING my bed. With the abominable odour of a mixture of curry, drains and (strangely) cabbage, I certainly wasn't proud. In fact, I'd not only shat myself, I'd done it in shameful, epic style. Still ever so slightly drunk, I thought "fuck it", threw the horrendous feculent bedclothes out my window, and went back to bed.

Next thing I know, I wake up at 2pm. Stumbling downstairs, I find my flatmates in the lounge, which was directly below my room and with a view out to the garden directly below my window. They're just sitting in silence. Glancing out the window, I notice the bedsheets aren't there. The washing machine is quietly whirring next door. Before I can open my mouth to speak, my flatmate Jen simply said "I don't know what the fuck you ate yesterday, but it's all over my courgette plants."
(, Fri 24 Jun 2011, 10:40, 6 replies)
A disgusting story, well told
Have a click.
(, Fri 24 Jun 2011, 11:32, closed)
pics for evedence

(, Fri 24 Jun 2011, 11:53, closed)
I bet those courgettes didn't get eaten. Spiced shite courgettes, there's a recipe there somewhere. clickage.
(, Fri 24 Jun 2011, 12:08, closed)
The story didn't quite live up to the title
But 'tis still amusing.
(, Fri 24 Jun 2011, 12:33, closed)
got a:
proper LOL from me.

and just take my fucking clicks damn you!
(, Fri 24 Jun 2011, 15:33, closed)
Oh how I laughed
(, Sun 26 Jun 2011, 0:10, closed)

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