House Guests"Last week," Ungersven confesses, "I vomited over almost everything in a friend's spare room. The only thing to escape the deluge was the rather attractive (alas engaged) French girl who was sharing the bed with me." Tell us about nightmare guests or Fred West-a-like hosts.
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Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 6 Jan 2011, 14:20)
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Mr Whippy!!As so many of these stories start out, University, 1994/95, Halls of Residence. Out of the 20 people that lived in this house that year, and the 40 or so lasses that lived next door and the endless people I have recounted this tale to - upon reading this will 1)instantly know me 2) instantly know who it's about. The rest, just read on.
4 Halls of residence in a leafy suburb of a midlands City, We'd often have house outings to the pubs and clubs, tuesdays and thursdays always being the best as the nights were student friendly and well fucking cheap! Everyone would go, even the loners, nerds and nutjobs of the house. It was great. John liked to come with us but didn't have the legs for 15 vodkas, 10 bottle of fosters, etc but would have a good go. 1 special night he was very, very drunk. We all got back safely on the free bus and everyone retired for the night.
Next morning, in the hallway, there's a stench. Takes u back to your childhood, "Smells like baby poo" someone comments. We follow the smell to the top floor, open the landing door and bosh. There it is, like a little brown trophy, just waiting to be a stood in. A perfectly shaped walnut-whip shaped turd. Wait, there's another little ball of poo, towards the... hang on, there's a tail of logs to the bathroom door! John's bedroom door is ajar, we walk to it and notice there's something stuck under the door. Another much bigger plop, squashed and squeezed between the door and carpet. Inside, it's like nothing on earth. There's poops everywhere, a pile of jeans with turd on, several piles of poop of varying sizes, some ovbiously been stood in - and skidded on back the looks of it as some of the poop piles are flat! All this between the door and the shit stained bed as well as a couple of perfect brown handprints. Amongst all this was his flat mate still fast asleep unaware of the horror he was about to awake to.
John was in the loo, pretending to be asleep we think. We never got the full story of what happened but it was pretty obvious.
So we named him after his triumphant perfectly sculpted crap we first found at the top of the stairs - Mr Whippy.
I would give names but....
Sod it. Town End Close Halls of Res, DMU, 1995.
(, Fri 7 Jan 2011, 16:44, Reply)
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