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This is a question 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)
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The one that wouldn't
Other half's parent's house, a Sunday afternoon, feel the urge. Opt to use the downstairs toilet.

Now their downstairs toilet is rather like an American toilet, shallow bowl, high water level, and a flush so weak that throwing a cup of water in the bowl would have been more effective. The cistern also takes a good 5 minutes to refill. Being lazy and somewhat naive, I ran the gauntlet.

I produced one to be proud of. A smooth admirable type 4 requiring little wipe-age. It was one of those that is maybe a couple of mil larger than the bore of the balloon knot requiring a solid effort in birthing, and it sat proudly in the bowl.

My pride was cut short by the thought "god-damn, is this thing going to flush?!"

With crossed fingers I pulled the handle, and watched with relief as everything disappeared around the u-bend. I finished washing my hands and glanced back at the toilet.

The turd was back in the bowl again. "What ... the ... hell...?"

After waiting for the cistern to fill I flushed and I kept watch this time. Everything disappeared again but as the flush subsided the turd reappeared slowly and smoothly from around the u-bend, like some sort of disgusting eel, swaying in the current. I swear it had a grin on it's face.

Dammit, Dammit, Dammit. It was brush time. I thrust downward into the water, in the hope I could just break it up a bit. I pulled the brush out again to find I had merely dented it, it's grin now upturned into a grimace. Another flush, the same slow ominous reappearance. More bashing, more flushing, and still the thing re-emerged, merely dented. It was like I was playing a perverted, scatological game of whack-a-mole.

I needed to slice this thing some how, but in the small room all I had was the toilet brush. I couldn't go and fetch a spoon/knife/hanger as I would have to walk past confused girlfriend and parents. There was only one option left, the hand...

I pulled up my sleeve, swathed my hand in toilet paper (thankfully it was the posh double ply stuff), reached in to the depths and clawed the thing in half. I was surprised at how dense it was, like clay or plasticine. It took quite some effort to break it.

Towelled off my arm (the toilet paper had made a surprisingly good glove), another flush, this time no movement. It was stuck to the bottom of the bowl where I had clawed at it. I may have started crying at this point.

In my anger I grabbed the toilet brush again, and in a desperate frenzy thrust, stabbed, twisted and churned the bowl. The water went murky and with one last flush everything disappeared and stayed disappeared. I breathed a sigh of relief, washed up and left what had been my temporary dungeon.

Now I just had to explain to girlfriend and her folks why I'd been in the toilet for 45 minutes...

genuine apologies for length!
(, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 15:21, 4 replies)
"turd reappeared slowly and smoothly from around the u-bend, like some sort of disgusting eel, swaying in the current. I swear it had a grin on it's face."

This statement alone is worthy of a *CLICK*!
(, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 15:26, closed)
Scatalogical Whack-A-Mole also deserves a click
(, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 15:28, closed)
Scatalogical whack-a-mole for me too.
(, Mon 31 Mar 2008, 16:51, closed)
Also not bad:
'The turd was back in the bowl again "What... the... hell...?"'

(, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 10:45, closed)

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