Truck stop, Amarillo, Texas, present day, bathroom, stuck. Can't move, I'm riveted to the toilet seat, hermetically sealed, caulked and loaded, waiting for the axe to fall.
Shitting is a lonely business, my friends. A silent communion between a man and his asshole. A sacred ritual, not to be disturbed. I hate shitting next to someone; peeing en masse is OK, but a shit should be done alone. What if a fart slips out? It's embarrassing. In a perfect world the shit just slides out like a Lincoln Log, all steamy and thick; no splash, nothing but net.
So this morning I'm in the bathroom doing my thing when the stall next door to me opens up. Of course I can't see this person next to me but from the obvious grunts and groans he must be ENORMOUS. He can barely fit thru the door; he's so big. He's grunting from the simple exertion of opening his fly. A very round person. Then the actual sitting down...grunt...grunt...GASP! He's down. A big fat trucker, a Goliath, my little turd seems inconsequential; I'm out of my league. Now the shit begins: OH SHIT! OH FUCK! NOWHERE TO GO - NOWHERE TO GO!!!
"FFFLOP-FLOP-FLOPFLOP-PIFFF-FLOPPITY FLOP FLORP! PIFFFFF---FIPPY-FLOPflop------TORNKK!!!!" This is my nitemare! OH GOD, the humanity, the humanity...OH GOD...here comes ROUND TWO!! OH NO PLEASE------GOD NOOOOO!!! "POOOOT-PIFFPIFF-THOP! THOPTHOPTHOP THOPTHOPTHOP---FLAAAH-POOMP!!-PIP-PORPP!!" This is his symphony, his Magnum Opus, and we're only thru the Second Movement! AND, OH GOD, THE STENCH!!!! Like a pasture full of UNdigested cow, green beans, onions, a tray of biscuits and gravy, a gaggle of hushpuppies, UNchewed, shot out like ping-pong balls, one after another-POP! POP! POPPOPPOP POOOOFT, then a cylinder of methane, a short Intermezzo before the next CRESCENDO of pancakes smothered in syrup, butter and whipped cream. 12 bacon strips, fried in their own lard and half-chewed, all the world half-chewed, no time for chewing. The next buffet beckons, it calls, "EAT ME, EAT MORE!" People in India are starving, fuck 'em.
My mind is reeling. I'm dizzy from the swamp gas and turds. My asshole puckers up in disgust, and OH NO, HERE COMES THE FINALE!!!! "POOOOPOOOP PLORRP-plahhhh FOPFOP FOP-FORRP!! Piffpiffff FOPFOPFOPFOPFOPPITYFOPFOP POOOOPOOO...Ffffff...fff...fff...." His colon searches for more...it's targeting, undulating like some giant snake, an anaconda coiled and seeking to spill its foul guts.... Incredibly, it's over...the heavy sigh of relief tells me it's OVER.
Jesus God...I feel like I just witnessed the birth of an alien being. A monster from the wretched depths of Hell, a huge man-thing. It has a NAME, it is evil, send it back to Hell, send it downriver...FLUUUSSHH.... The suction can't seem to get a handle on it. It's trying, trying but THE SHIT'S TOO BIG. It won't go down and THE TRUCKER'S LAUGHING, laughing at his own bastard son he's spawned, stuck in the mud, laughing at the predicament.
Now some 5-dollar-an-hour, pimple-faced yahoo with a plunger and no soul must eject the foul thing from it's perch. The torch has been passed, so to speak. Someone else must don Haz-Mat gear and attempt to chisel off the steaming pile of grits and gravy from the porcelain tiles and walls and then THE STORY WILL BE TOLD, yes, this person's family will hear the legend of THE SHIT THAT WOULD NOT DIE! How he fought it with broom and mop, like Sir Lancelot of old, how he jousted and finally bested the Dragon, the stinking Dragon with it's foul breath and lettuce-like consistency , the bite from the brimstone stench appalling and terrible in it's wrath. And YES...with a dose of Liquid Plumber and a gas mask and a heart that's pure, our noble knight did best and conquer the horrid Beast, and in the end did win the Lady Fair. She who watched in awe from the Women's shitter next-door, she who clapped her hands and squealed in delight at the UN-matched strength and skill of her Hero. She who, having just wiped her ass and left a stinking pile of her own, did 'ooh' and 'aah', seeking to know our Hero, hoping that he would have drugs to share, and a small cabin in the back of his truck in which to rejoice and celebrate the Tale, re-telling it in it's most gory splendor over and over and over....
Uummm...you think maybe I took this a little too far? Well...it WAS a big shit!