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…of Religious Movements and Bowel Movements January 22, 2009

Posted by billynorton in Choose Your Own Adventure.
Tags: , , , , , ,

previouslyOn “Running From My Life” 

“For once, I am grateful this stomach churning  piss water, you call coffee, is a luke-warm inconvenience and not a piping hot serving of karma.” I dabbed my shirt with a napkin making it worse. ” How about you cancel that french toast, Ruby, and get my scrambled eggs on the go. Oh yeah and get me me another cup of this swill… and throw it in the microwave for a minute…I should be safe this time.”

“They say God works in mysterious ways and no doubt, God was looking out for you when that element burned out last week” Ruby responded head down and a smile creeping across her face.

“Well, thank your God-that-don’t-believe-in for that!” Yeah, that was the last thing I needed. Someone else’s God looking out for me.

Ruby ran off to the kitchen to place my order and I sat trying, in vain, to get the coffee stain out. There was no washing machine in my near future and one of the two shirts I own was on Wendy’s back right now.

It was 10:00 am and I had no place to stay, no money or gas , I had to be in Reno by 6:00 PM  and I kind of looked like the skid mark on my underwear. Forcing my way out of this situation would only make it worse. I had to think my way out of this, but sadly my best thinking is done on the crapper and I aint  shit right for a week. I don’t know if it was the food they were serving me here, or Wendy’s never ending string of insults, but my morning constitutional had gone the way of socially acceptable smoking.

Ah to hell with it. I will just go sit on the john and hope something comes out. If it is a plan that gets me out of this shit … great and if it was a foot long turd as heavy as a bull elephant…even better! If it was both then I was going to reconsider my scepticism of Ruby’s mysterious God.

“Don’t worry, I aint bailing on the bill. I am just going to pray for salvation and a religious movement from that god of yours Ruby.”

“Ok, God be with you, Mr William.” She yelled from the kitchen curiously.

Great that is just what I needed. The mental image of God sitting in the next stall, coaching me through a bowel movement. I could not shit in public under the best circumstances and certainly not with someone else in the other stall, much less someone else’s higher power.  The sound of another man grunting out a turds made it hard to focus and if they were in and out quicker than me, well that just made me envious. Either way it detracted from the task at hand. Shitting.

It was a dingy tile covered room with a urinal and two stalls. It had not been painted since a time when bowel movement were not openly discussed on daytime television. The mirror was gone and the sink leaked non-stop. The graffiti in the stall reflected that business had been bad in East Wendover for more than a decade. It would appear some kid name Sam thought of Sheryl while sitting here 12 years ago. Hopefully that was not a sign of things to come in their relationship. All the kids (well the ones that hung out in public restrooms) felt Tupac deserved to be immortalized in a crapper in Utah in 1997.

I checked for toilet paper. These ragged yellow briefs were my last pair, best not take chances. There was a 1/2 roll of Utah’ finest single ply sandpaper. I dropped my jeans and sat on the cold cracked plastic seat and emptied my mind to allow my brain and colon to warm up. 

Wouldn’t you fuckin’ know it! The door to the men’s room creaked and a pair of green Converse danced across the space under my door and plunked down in the stall next to me. Shit shit shit shit. My ass hole tightened up like a Catholic confessing his sins in an open door confessional. Nothing was coming out of there today. I may as well pull up my pants go eat my last meal.

Bathroom Stallsw

I wonder how long a person can go, before their shit goes toxic. I have never been constipated, but I don’t think it has ever killed anyone, has it? It was a mind fucking game, the more I wanted to go the less likely I would. I had been god damn afraid it would come loose when I was least ready- like while fucking Wendy and just bam! Shit everywhere. My shit on the sheets. My shit on the bed, My shit on the walls. My shit all over Wendy’s ass. If it turned out that it turned Wendy on; I really did not want to know about it.

… And Green Converse had something to say too…

“It is a funny thing shitting in public. Most people rush the process along, so they can get in and out quickly, and forget the experience- but somewhat ironically, they end up bringing along some tangible memories of the experience, that their wives and strangers sitting next to them on the bus, will notice. My wife refuses to do my laundry after a road trip and I never ride the bus. Well god be with you.” and Green Converse got up and left the washroom. With out fucking washing his hands either

“What the fuck are you…” I started to say and I farted. Then came the single most painful thing I have ever experienced and it was coming out of my ass. It was not a slow rumbling but a sudden flash blocking the rest of the world out. And there at the bottom of the toilet was a 3 pound foot long monster and at that moment I knew what I was going to do. Everything was clear. How I was getting money and how I was getting to Reno. The only thing I did not know was how I was going to get that shit to go down the toilet. I flushed and it folded in half and blocked it up almost  bringing the toilet water over the edge.

I could not leave it there. What would Ruby think.Sure, I would never see her again but it was just wrong to leave that there as my last marker in East Wendover Utah.

“Well isn’t that just great.” I grabbed the plunger from beside the sink and poked it. It was not moving.



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