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[Rarek]

NOTE: The following story is not about any DRC members even though there are ceratin who had similar experiences

Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago
we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a
Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar; indeed the
only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's
night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to
table entertaining the little bastards.

It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection
to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.

We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-
eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the
restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a
bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of
macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all,
four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into
my belly. I was full. Perhaps a bit too much, however.

I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas
and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelming plates of food,
I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm
that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward
pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which
could have been passed in batches right at the table without too
much concern.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was
clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how
grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the
food which spawned the grease, to begin with, but I digress...
I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon
entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals
just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the
back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I
would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch
out a bit when I take a good shit, but in this case, the door lock
was broken and the only thing hate worse than my wife telling me
to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagional wirecutters
is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit. I went
to the normal stall.

In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped
stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time
lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under
the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall,
the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions.

I began "The Move".

For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to
explain "The Move". Men know exactly what their bowels are up to
at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a
sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped
under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves
simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to
position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into
ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning to
squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when
performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at
the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet
seat. Done properly, it even assures that the "master" is properly
inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss
stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of
coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.

I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the
floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by
one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded
up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked
into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a
thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so
intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that
reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by
the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up
for a rematch. What happened next was so quick, that the exact
sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct
them as best I can.

In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was
diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame
on the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants
pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus.
Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precidence over shit no matter
what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an
evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you,
but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do
not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to
death. My attention was thus diverted.

At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be
described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the
lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something
similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet,
an enormous plug of shit the consistancy of thick mud with embedded
pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I
was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave
was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back
curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat
and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the
angle at which it initally hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down.
recall that when that event occured, I was already half-way to
sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return.
I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally,
but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter
how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of
considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance
off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the wall.

Now, back to the vomit. While all the shitting was going on, the
vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed
on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the
macaroni and beef I had just consumed. Okay, so what does the human body
instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was
still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in
me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in
between my knees and waist, also directly above my pants, which were now
pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh,
did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with
elastic on the ankles. In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and
beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of big, fat Yeast Rolls were
deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my
feet. In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a
couple of turds, and the event ended. Yet I was now sitting there with my
pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off
the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of
about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me,
covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All
while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in
the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no fucking toilet paper.
What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete
maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually
asked if I was okay since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded
like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask
him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager
bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the
toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened
next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to
explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several
wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I
told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think
he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants
or something similarly benign.

About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing
what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I
explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out
words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing
that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably
assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just
needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until
I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go
across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new
pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage
around the elastic ankle thingies) new sneakers. And she then
started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to
ask for an explanation as to what had happened. I promised her
that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle
damage control for the time being. She left.

The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a
few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which
he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be
cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what
was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I
would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks
working at Ryan's making minimum wage or just slightly above. At
that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the
situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty
that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a
hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile
walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room
in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial
bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the
sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I
was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed
them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn
clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing
the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully
put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured
that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get
redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and
some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made
a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it
that way.

When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned
up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in
the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the
bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for
all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management
staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started
laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but
managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to
pick me up by the front door.

The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner
at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management
staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.
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Until I accept it, I am nothing.

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[|DRC| Wartex]

Awesome. Remind me not to feed you when you come to my place

Beats VME7 !!!
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[|DRC| Wartex]

[Rarek]

This story wasn't about me of course... thankfully.

[Rusky]

AHAHAHA OMFG
I don't think I every read anything that long that made me laugh nonstop

[Wonderzy]

That story was told really well and its sooo funny. When I first started reading it I thought it was you too, haha.

[Rarek]

I don't think I'd brag about something like that hehehe.

[|DRC| Marblecake]

The move. That so true. Awesome awesome story.
_________________
"Shrink" Are you a assasin? "Me" Assasin sounds so exotic. Im just a murderer.

[|DRC| Wang]

lol, I dont know which story is better. This one or that story about the "apartment life". roflmfao!!

http://www.wartex.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=1584&highlight=apartment
_________________
I see Honesty and Greed fighting with lightsabers. Honesty is decapitated, and Greed takes a steamy piss on the dead body. -Wartex Maul 3:16-

[|DRC| SLIM]

That was a hell of a good story.

[|DRC| Marblecake]

The retarded girl. LOL havent seen that one in ages.

[Cannonfodder]

Bravo, very entertaining.
I dont laugh out loud much while reading, but this is an exception!

[=LG=Devil]

I was crying my eyes out i was laughing so hard. I thought it happened to you. I couldn't grasp why you were telling everyone that. definitely hilarious.

[|DRC| Iceman]

omg I read that intire post to my girl friend and she couldn't stop laughing, and then she said "Well at least he was good enough to clean it up." LMAO! I almost couldn't breathe I laughed so hard with tears in my eyes!

[Elusive]

yah, i started reading that at work yesterday but i had to stop because ppl dont laugh in ingineering. just read it now it was great but i had to rush bc my broken rib makes laughing painful. good stuff

[Rusky]

the door lock was broken and the only thing hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagional wirecutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit.

That gave it away that it's not him.

[Wonderzy]

Rarek prefers a KNIFE for those things. heh

[Rarek]

I like knives.

[Rusky]

I haven't seen you in a while Rarek, I miss you .

[OLDie]

I laughed so hard I filled my depends - got so sick smelling that I threw up on my desk...

One of the funniest things I have ever read...
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The Harder You Work The Luckier You Get!