October Sky

Like every morning, the dog woke me up, his primal needs overpowering his urge to spend time in the spot my girlfriend used to occupy in the bed beside me. So, I got out of bed, threw on my coat, even grabbed my beanie, and took the ol' pup out for a stroll. Sounds normal enough, felt normal enough. Had a burst of energy as the 45 degree air smacked my puffy, sleepy face, and I thought that I'd do an extra mile on the walk. Stroll, stroll, stroll, and as the cobwebs started to clear and I got over a half a mile from my door, a rumble on my belt line reminded me of what I forgot to do.

See every morning for the last 2 months, I've taken a shit before walking the dog. Often just a quick colon clearer, feces that's moved it's way to the sphincter over night.

The "oh shit" registered as the feeling began to over power me. Because not only was I over a half mile walk from the front door, but I remembered that in my stoned stupor last night I opened and finished a box of triscuits. Those high in fiber snacks that they actually advise you don't eat too much of at a time.

But they were cracked peppercorn and sea salt, fucking delicious, and I hadn't smoked in a long time, for me anyway, and I loved every fibrous bit of them. But on the clenched stiff walk home, it was all I could do to force right foot in front of left, and I just kept cursing myself. Who eats a whole box of ...

... Uh oh, the cramps were intense, I could feel my hemorrhoidal asshole dilating, and though sometimes it's tricky to tell with the grape sized bushel I have tacked to my hole, I was pretty sure I was feeling the decent of the first turd.

I waddled waddled waddled, I couldn't see my door because my head was so low. Then I lightly tapped my butt through my sweatpants and could feel it. It wasn't a turtle head, it was a log, there was a big log sticking out of my asshole. Somehow still connected, a blessing from the same fibrous triscuits that had brought these cramps upon me in the first place.

I was still another 60 yards from my door when I heard my neighbor start talking to me from behind. I would have kept walking but the dog, the fucking dog, he turned and jerked the leash away. Causing my body to spasm. That fucking dog. And as she went on about the weather this weekend. It's supposed to be 80 you know. I could feel the grape-lets flexing around the log sized turd just hanging from the dilated bushel in my sweatpants.

I forced a smile, jerked back on the leash and made it home in another 50 waddling seconds. Luckily there is a half bath right inside the door. Definitely not my preference to defecate in, but neither are my sweat pants.

At this point I swear I was grabbing at my leg, convinced I had already shit myself while exchanging forced dialog my neighbor, trying to stop the shit from rolling out the bottom of my pants.

But alas, as I yanked my pants down over the toilet that didn't even have the seat down, there was a fraction of a second where I could see through my legs a huge log of shit hanging from my puffy butthole. Right before it exploded from there like the first rocket that Jake Gyllenhal and his buddies build in October Sky ...