Shit Stories: Part Number Two
As a regular service to our readers, we've been re-opening old questions.
Once again, we want to hear your stories of shit, poo and number twos. Go on - be filthier than last time.
( , Thu 27 Mar 2008, 14:57)
As a regular service to our readers, we've been re-opening old questions.
Once again, we want to hear your stories of shit, poo and number twos. Go on - be filthier than last time.
( , Thu 27 Mar 2008, 14:57)
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Poo! Hooray! Pooray!
I've lost more than my fair share of socks to pub toilets in the past. You notice too late that there is no bog roll and the only thing to do is to make a dirty coprophilic sock puppet to drily gum the marmite off.
I've also had to set fire to a pair of boxer shorts to avoid any prolonged contact to my own effluence. After a weekend bender going mad with the drink and the drugs, I was walking back from a friends when the cramps set in . I was equidistant from both the friends house and my own. I stumbled down a side alley (it was still light) to try and get rid but fell over. I voided my bowels for the first time in two days lying on my side in an alleyway, 6 feet from a main road, at 8pm.
I stood up, pulled my trousers to my ankles and tried to assess the damage. Oh lordy the damage.
In my weak-minded state the only way I could think to get my boxers away from me was to burn them off with my lighter, ripping would mean there had to be stretching and therefore the chance of flinging. I started with the elastic around the top which didn't just melt quickly and easily, it set fire to cheap cotton that surrounded it. It made me do a strange kind of dance that managed to pretty much coat my legs in shit.
I screamed, slapped the flames out and pulled up my jeans.
I tried to walk home without my legs touching each other or the jeans i was wearing.
Overall, it was fucking horrible.
Oh and one morning i shat into a girls tupperware tub i found in her room while she was washing our dirty love stink from her skin in her shower donwnstairs. I put it into a plastic bag and then slipped into the wheelybin.
( , Thu 27 Mar 2008, 22:05, 2 replies)
I've lost more than my fair share of socks to pub toilets in the past. You notice too late that there is no bog roll and the only thing to do is to make a dirty coprophilic sock puppet to drily gum the marmite off.
I've also had to set fire to a pair of boxer shorts to avoid any prolonged contact to my own effluence. After a weekend bender going mad with the drink and the drugs, I was walking back from a friends when the cramps set in . I was equidistant from both the friends house and my own. I stumbled down a side alley (it was still light) to try and get rid but fell over. I voided my bowels for the first time in two days lying on my side in an alleyway, 6 feet from a main road, at 8pm.
I stood up, pulled my trousers to my ankles and tried to assess the damage. Oh lordy the damage.
In my weak-minded state the only way I could think to get my boxers away from me was to burn them off with my lighter, ripping would mean there had to be stretching and therefore the chance of flinging. I started with the elastic around the top which didn't just melt quickly and easily, it set fire to cheap cotton that surrounded it. It made me do a strange kind of dance that managed to pretty much coat my legs in shit.
I screamed, slapped the flames out and pulled up my jeans.
I tried to walk home without my legs touching each other or the jeans i was wearing.
Overall, it was fucking horrible.
Oh and one morning i shat into a girls tupperware tub i found in her room while she was washing our dirty love stink from her skin in her shower donwnstairs. I put it into a plastic bag and then slipped into the wheelybin.
( , Thu 27 Mar 2008, 22:05, 2 replies)
nicely done
``and therefore the chance of flinging.''
a click just for that. still giggling...
( , Thu 27 Mar 2008, 22:49, closed)
``and therefore the chance of flinging.''
a click just for that. still giggling...
( , Thu 27 Mar 2008, 22:49, closed)
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