Oh gosh
just remembered another one. The peril of living in a shared house...

When I used to share a house I'd often cook large amounts of stuff so that I could eat it for the rest of the week.

One Monday I cooked a huge pan of chilli which, if I say so myself, was pretty damn good. So good infact that I ate the whole lot, 4 nights worth, in one sitting before going to bed feeling very fat but happy.

The next morning I awoke desperate for a poo. So desperate that walking down stairs was difficult.

Unfortunately the one bathroom in the house was busy. One of my housemates was in there, in the bath, listening to her radio on headphones.

I knocked. I knocked again. No answer. I bashed on the door - she must have been asleep or something as there was no reply.

So I returned to my room and paced for a bit. Something needed to be done and fast. In fact, things were getting so desperate now that the thought of going down the 6 steps to the bathroom again were just too much for my poor bowels.

So I got the local paper, spread it out on the floor of my room, then released the largest pile of poo I've ever seen in my life onto it in one huge steaming pile. I swear it was a greater volume than the original chilli.

It felt amazing. It smelt somewhat worse.

After about half an hour, my housemate left the bathroom still listening to her headphones and I was able to sneak the large newspaper bundle in and try and fit it into the toilet.

(It took a good 5 minutes of bashing with the toilet brush and 3 or 4 flushes before it finally went. For a while I thought I'd blocked the thing forever and would then have to explain to the landlord why the loo was full of sodden newsprint and poo)
( chthonic, Thu 6 May 2004, 11:30, Reply)