The Camping Slip
I was in the fourth grade on a Boy Scout campout. At this age, most kids are Shameful Shitters, myself included. Needless to say, I, like most kids, tempted fate by playing the take-a-huge-shit-before-I-leave-and-try-to-forget-I-have-an-asshole game while away from home in a desperate attempt to prevent any shameful public shitting situations. Despite the barrages of pain that accompanied those stop-everything-to-focus-on-keeping-your-butt-shut moments that were marked by the feeling that your hair is standing on end, as well as the occasional ranktified fart, I was able to hold my hole. One of my friends, however, was not that lucky.
The last night we were at camp, I think my friend Jay's ass was tired of all the foolish games he was playing. I think his ass staged a coup -- a messy, horrible, stinky coup. We had all gone to the only kids' tent for the night. During our usual joke and story telling, Jay started to emit the most rotten, offensive smells that have ever come from any hole on any planet. This is not an exaggeration. I have smelled some rotten stuff in my day -- three-week-old Cup-o-Ramen, a god-only-knows-how-old bratwurst left under my suite-mate's bed; this eclipsed them all. It was a deadly mix of rotten boiled egg and raw fish marinated in methane gas. So putrid were these farts that I'm surprised there was still vegetation around the tent when we left, and I'm surprised that a single whiff of one of these abominations didn't make us all sterile. He permeated the entire tent with a repulsive odor so intense and thick it felt like it penetrated your very soul, and not a hundred showers or a hundred baptisms could cleanse you of this evil.
Of course, this scene, although traumatic, was a laugh riot. We were all rolling around, laughing hysterically, commenting on how close to death's door these rancid fartlets were bringing us. It didn't help that he would let out a pitiful, "Ohhhh, no, sorry guys." As the night went on, he kept saying how he needed to take the biggest dump. I felt sorry for him, because he seemed in a lot of pain, but his plight was somehow funny to us. No one could find the roll of toilet paper in the tent, so we told him to go to the truck down the way and get another roll and do his business.
Being the age we were, I think he was afraid of the dark. He kept trying to enlist us in his crusade to go out with him and get the toilet paper. No one would bear this cross with him, so he lay there all night, emitting the sarin gas. Somehow, probably due to lack of air, we all fell asleep.
I awoke the next day, to my surprise, to the same horrific stench that was my friend's essence. Surly his flatus could not have lingered all night? What a magnificent fart, if that were the case! Sadly, though, that was not the reason for the phenomenal hang time. Upon further investigation, we all simultaneously realized what had transpired whilst we slept: that's right, he pooped in his sleeping bag. I don't know if it was intentional, but there was shit everywhere. All over his bag, his pillow -- how the hell that happened, I'll never know. Holy Jesus, what a smell.
Chaos is the only word that can describe the next few moments. In a mix of laughing and coughing, we were all scurrying around, frantically trying to pick up anything that belonged to us that wasn't covered in the essence of my friend. All time seemed to stop, however, when we heard none other than Jay's dad walking over to the tent to make sure we were all up. UNZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP...
As he starts to put his head in the tent to say good morning, he pulls back like he just got kicked in the face; and with a huge grin on his face he said, in a countrified accent, "WHOOOOOO WHEEEEE! Smells like someone shit their pants!"
I could not contain my laughter at this ironic twist. I tried to stifle my giggles as Jay responded, "Uh, Dad, I did."
The look on his dad's face was priceless. Perhaps at that moment he was questioning why he ever perpetuated his seed. His smile quickly faded and was replaced by a look that was a cross between horror, confusion, and disappointment. The look of a man who was contemplating hanging himself the first moment he could. After an extremely awkward moment that seemed to have the hang time of one of Jay's heinous monstrosities, we finally emerged from the tent, feeling all the while like we just climbed out of Satan's asshole.
Jay went to the creek to wash off, which consisted of just splashing river water on himself and changing his clothes. Although no one said anything, he still had shit stains all up and down his legs from immersing himself in his own smudge all night. How in God's name someone subjects himself to sleeping in shit is beyond me. And how did he get it on his pillow? More importantly, how could someone put his head back on that pillow and sleep??
Although everyone had wanted to ride in Jay's dad's car on the way to the campout, no one wanted to ride home with them.
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Camping Poop Story
