Mr Hanky's Cousin, Mr Turd
I used to work in a shared office block, obviously with shared bogs, just two toilet cubicles and no urinals. I was particularly busting for a wee one day, so into the loo I dashed. One cubicle was occupied so I used the empty one. I lifted the lid to find that someone had left me the gift of a pungent floater and what a big'un it was too. I left the lid up and flushed. Now these toilets had the most powerful flush you could imagine, and they seemed to gush water for ages. I flushed. Water gushed. Bog was blocked. I can still recall the water reaching the top of the toilet and that huge log-like turd making a break for freedom over the rim. Off he went across the cubicle floor, under the gap, into the cubicle next door. Now remember I said it was occupied. I could see the poor guy's trousers round his ankles. Mr Turd went straight into that guy's trousers. I don't mean it touched them, I mean it violated them, badly. Straight into the folds of material Mr Turd went. I left rapidly at that point. My last vision, a pair of hands rapidly scrambling for his shit stained pants, stained with someone else's shit mind you. He was probably wondering how he would explain this to his workmates, or his family, or whether he should sit in them all day or go home and change. Then I heard him puke. At least it was his puke though.
(RetroSquirrel, Tue 6 Sep 2005, 12:27, Reply)