That Time I S*** My Pants
My wife is probably going to file for divorce after she reads this, but it’s a funny story, so what the hell!
It was winter break 2002 and I was back in the suburbs of Detroit. One December evening I went over to my buddy Jon’s house to hang with him and my best pal, Edwin. Now Jon’s house (actually, his mom’s house, Jon lived in the basement) was a ranch style house with a big finished basement. There was no bathroom downstairs so if you had to use the toilet, you had to go upstairs. Now, we weren’t doing any heavy drinking or terrible eating, so I don’t know what brought this on, but at one point I went upstairs to use the bathroom. While peeing I felt a fart coming on, and if you’re a guy, you know that you fart and pee all the time, so I decided to fart. Gambled, lost.
Have you ever farted and thought maybe you crapped yourself, only to run to the bathroom to check just to find out you had a false alarm? Well I’ll tell you, when you crap your pants, there’s no mistaking it; your eyes will shoot open as wide as they’ll go in a state of shock, and that’s exactly what happened to me when I felt that warm, well, crap, hit my undies. I immediately sat down on the toilet to asses the situation and let me tell you, this wasn’t a little shart. This was a full blown “I diarrheaed in my pants” kind of shart. I couldn’t toss my boxers at Jon’s so in a state of panic I cleaned up as best as I could and went downstairs and told Jon that I wasn’t feeling well. I told him I threw up and was going to go home to get better. Well Jon and Edwin walked me upstairs to see me off and noticed the rank smell coming from the bathroom.
“Dude, it stinks in there, did you crap?”
“Uhh, I was crapping and then threw up afterwards.”
Jon’s house wasn’t down the street or anything from my parent’s house, it was across town. Now, you really can’t clean loose stool out of your underwear without washing them, so there was still a good amount of, uhh, residue left and it did not feel comfortable. It was winter time, so it got cold, fast. I couldn’t sit normally in the car seat because I would make the mess even worse, so I had to drive home, from the other end of town, without my ass touching the seat. Try it sometime. Just sit in your car and pretend to drive without having your ass touch the seat. Trust me, it’s not easy.
So I get home, run upstairs and immediately toss my boxers and hop in the shower. Of course, my father thought that was hilarious. To this day, I still haven’t told Jon and Edwin. There is a moral to this story; if you’re not 100% sure, don’t risk it! Trust me, Uncle Ramone knows best.