Cubicle Wrestling
The only operation I’ve ever had was back when I was fifteen to exorcise my nut sack of an unwanted ET*.

Prior to having the op I had an appointment with the old chap who’d be performing the exorcism on my haunted ball bag. As I sat there looking at the old boy over the desk all I could think was: This geezer’s gonna slit my furry pink bagpipes open, reach inside and wrestle with the bollock-from-another-dimension. The surgeons name was Chapman (the brother of that fella out of Monty Python, no less), and he was an all round decent fella. Though, understandably, I was still absolutely shitting bricks.

He had the stentorian demeanour of a high court judge. If he said jump, I’d say how high (only not too high on account of the severely swollen manbag). Thankfully he didn’t ask me to do any physical activity – but he did ask if I’d provide him with a stool and urine sample.

Piss – no problem. I could piss for Britain on command. But shit? I nodded that that would be ok and disappeared back into the waiting area, my arse hanging out the back of the surgical gown I’d been put into, where my mum was waiting.

After a while I was given a couple of little tube thingies in which to make my deposits by one of the two nurses who worked the desk, and I was ushered towards a toilet.

Inside, I immediately filled the first container with the finest grade yellow cock water known to mankind, secured the lid, and felt the lovely heat of my fresh piss through the clear plastic. Hadn’t spilled a drop. If they did GCSE’s in pissing in a bottle, I’d have got an A star.

Then I examined the second container... Jesus, this has gotta be a piss take!!!

The second container was the same size and dimensions as the first – basically a teeny-tiny test tube with a plastic cap on the end. I stood for a bit, frowning down at it, trying to imagine the best logistical way to take a dump in the damn thing.

Eventually, after several minutes of furious thought and having come up with fuck all, I fell back on plan B: Fuck it, what’s the worst that can happen? I hitched up my gown, squatted over the bog, held the tube under my quickly dilating stinky barndoor and proceeded to try and squeeze one out. Thankfully, I’d had an egg McMuffin for breakfast - this had lubricated my insides in the same way Castrol GTX lubricates a car engine. When my brown eye started winking and the tip of the first turd rocket prepared for gravity-bound lift-off, I could feel it coming out a little slick, a little oily, with the consistency of treacle pudding put in the fridge for a few minutes.

Perfect.

Clenching my arse I squeezed and – allowing for the second drop time - felt something heavy, wet and warm land on my wrist. Fuck! I glanced down between my legs, I’d missed my target; I’d laid a fat one on my lower arm, it coiled round my wrist and looked up at me accusingly, it resembled a baby poo python or a wristwatch made out of shit. Fighting the need to spew, I dispatched the fucker to the watery depths with a quick flick, then prepared for another attempt.

The second time I was closer, but the velocity of this turd was faster than I’d expected. It shot out my sphincter like a prized racehorse at the starting gate. It almost whistled as it cut the air on its descent. It achived perfect splashdown before I had a chance to react.

Then I gave it another go, turd number three... Missed!!! SPLASH!!!

Shit! I’m running out of shit! I thought. Fuck it.... Only one thing for it....

...and I’m not proud of this....

I assumed the full-on standing squat with extra arse-stinking-in-the-air to maximize the distance between poopchute and bog. And I let fly a super-sized log into my waiting palm.

I lifted the container I held in my other hand and as quickly as possible, rammed the head of the turd into the damn thing – it squished inside, over the side, elements of the now mashed turd working between my fingers like wet, steamy hot rancid chocolate pudding (with extra sesame seed bits). Tendrils of shit fell to the floor. A fine spray of sphincter dough squidged and splattered onto the door and walls of the cubicle. Almost crying, I wiped my hands clean, wiped my arse, wiped the outside of the shit container, wiped the cubicle – I must’ve used up Northampton General’s entire month’s supply of bog roll in about ten minutes.

Blubbering, I went and started rubbing my skin off with soap and hot water.

After a while longer when I’d calmed down a bit I ventured back into the real world, the world where you don’t wrestle with your own faeces like some Roman gladiator with a poo fetish. I took my tubes of bodywaste – filled, and in one case packed to the brim by my own fair hand. I placed both containers down on the counter in front of the nurse.

She looked at the containers, I could almost read her mind: HOW THE FUCK DID YOU MANAGE TO GET ALL THAT IN THERE??? But she was a professional; she didn’t say a word. Not one fucking word. But as I was walking back to sit with my mum I did hear her whisper to her colleague, the other desk jockey who gave me the empty vials to fill in the first place:

“Sharon – if Dr Chapman asks for a stool sample and a urine sample, don’t give out two urine samples. We’ve got a bigger container for the number twos... God only knows.... That poor, poor boy....”

After the horrors of that half an hour, having my genitals ravaged by surgery didn’t seem that bad. Not that bad at all.

And a little advice: If you ever feel the urge to shit in your hands. Don’t. Just don’t.



*Extra Testicle. (Actually an aqueous cyst).
( SpankyHanky, Tue 16 Mar 2010, 14:13, 10 replies)

WIN
yes.

ftw.
(Archeleus hates cabbage, Tue 16 Mar 2010, 14:27, closed)

do you mean to say; you went for surgery,
and you kneaded a poo sample.
(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Tue 16 Mar 2010, 14:31, closed)

Kneaded a shit?
We've all been there...
( jim_bob can herd cats., Tue 16 Mar 2010, 15:29, closed)

hahaha!
*clicked*
( theoriginalsteve <this space intentionally left blank>, Tue 16 Mar 2010, 15:00, closed)

This deserves a click!
Baby poo python. Still has me rocking! Cheers.

Edit; quick reply has a "linkify" button. Reading your post turned it into "liquify". I very nearly clicked that one!
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Tue 16 Mar 2010, 15:31, closed)

Pictures
Or it didn't happen :)
(EuroSong I love horse meat: best of all the animals, Tue 16 Mar 2010, 18:28, closed)

Shit! I’m running out of shit!
Ha ha - that had (still has) me giggling like a school child.
(dchurch bah, Tue 16 Mar 2010, 19:51, closed)

Thank goodness I'm alone in the office,
'cause I'm giggling like a loon.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Tue 16 Mar 2010, 20:01, closed)

i still have my ET
My lefty herniated a few years back, thought I had nut cancer. Turns out lifting half a 400 pound couch-bed can herniate if you try hard enough. It looks like a raisin hanging down.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Tue 16 Mar 2010, 23:16, closed)

clicks
Not just because it was very funny
I had a very similar experience, after failing to hit the tiny bottle they gave me, i was handed a cardboard bowl that fitted over the loo, but too late, nothing to produce by then.
I dont think an OCD sufferer would have washed their hands as often as i did after that :(
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Wed 17 Mar 2010, 1:38, closed)

A*
I cant tell the true from the fiction anymore. A* for spinning a yarn though.
(justin(e), Thu 18 Mar 2010, 12:35, closed)