The seed used for this world is - Turdcutalia
Music by Kevin MacLeod http://incompetech.com/music/royalty-free/
I awoke with the stinging burn of freezing water spraying into thousands of cuts, burns, and breaks all over my body. For a moment I thought I was drowning again, but it soon became clear I wasn't that kind of lucky. The familiar voice of a young girl began her spanish chattering, alerting my tormentor to my recently regained consciousness. I pawed at the burning on the side of my head and was immediately reminded of my broken fingers as they slid across a prickly texture that could only be fresh stitches.
My rage got the better of me, and I started screaming every obscenity that I had learned in my long life of unrepentant bastardry. I scooted towards the blurred shapes in front of me, kicking and spitting, and told them what I planned to do to the whores they called mothers when they finally sent me to punch my ticket in hell. I had never been so angry in my life, fueled by further frustration when I discovered how difficult it is to get up from the ground with broken hands. But the three figures before me shocked me into silence with a simple dismissal of my fury. Full-throated laughter. They disarmed me entirely by mocking my efforts as they doubled over from strained stomachs. I was left only with despair.
The biggest shadow excused himself from the room, leaving only a tall, skinny man and the small girl. She walked over to me and calmly sat down in on the wet floor next to me. I was shocked that she was not deterred by the bloody, vulgar pulp that I had become. There was no mirror about, but I was certain that I was in the kind of shape that would make an ER doctor cringe. With an unnervingly even voice, she addressed me in near perfect english. "We know you are rich. We found your money. We also know you are desperate, since no white man would ever face the river unless their life is on the line." She spoke with an even tone and maturity that put chills down my spine. "And my father wants everything you ever had. He wants all your money, and all the money you can get from anyone who loves you enough to pay for your well-being. But he is not a patient man. He will come back in twenty minutes and he will ask you to make a phone call. Depending on the result of that call, he will either take you upstairs to be dressed and enjoy a fresh meal at our table, or he will begin to dismantle your body. He will cut off your fingers and toes, your cock and balls, then your ears and nose. It is only when you pass out from pain or loss of blood that he will let you die, then dissolve you in a series of barrels outside."
She then got up while I sat in silence, walked over to the door and knocked gently, then left me to think about my end.
Woo-hoo! What a biggun'! Bet you hadta beat that sucker with a shovel, huh? A big ol' gravel shovel. Yer pa would be proud, boy. Now peel that puppy, she'll make a supper real good.
Well, gaw-lee lookit that big sob there! Done fished him outa his big hole, ya did. We call them "Devil's Privates" back home, but I'll be dickered if that ain't the biggest dong I ever did see.
Yee-haw! Thatsa monster fish right there, I tell you what! Got him witha arrow shooter, stranger? Well as I live and breathe.... I ain't never hadta kill a fishy with nothin but rock before, so I sure am impressed! Bet they is good eatin'!
Get an eyefull of that there mountain kitty! How much he weigh, huh? I bet I could pick him up real easy. My Betsy probably got about fifty on that bastard so I could get him over my shoulder quicker than a minute!
Hot damn! That sucker sure is the face of terror if I ever seen it! Bet that monster got a couple dogs, few housecats, maybe even an infant or two inside 'er! Whatchoo waitin' fer? Cut 'em open and lets count them babies!
Sweet Mary! That moose is bigger than that new pipe organ they just put in the church! How you gonna git 'er offa this hill, mister? I got my pickup a few miles back, and she'll pull this bastard if'n I can get her up the trail!
Good evening, dear readers. Another treat for you to enjoy, I have five days of flatulence and shitting all detailed. And it might be worth mentioning that if any one of you are employed as a licensed proctologist I would appreciate a professional review of my leavings. But enough of that nonsense, and on to the pooping!
Friday, March 8
There is something about the end of the week that complicates my bowels. It feels like my colon is tied in knots, and if the dry consistency of my dump is any indication, I must be in the throes of some severe dehydration. For the sake of science I decided to fish out the floating mass and crush it between my fingers, revealing a flaky and course texture that seemed dry enough to serve as fire starting material. After thoroughly washing my hands I decided to drink a few glasses of water. Size was a paltry 2.0, but speed of movement and stench both scored high at 4.5.
Saturday, March 10
To add some more data to my experiment I decided today to eat two full cans of corn, then abstain from corn intake and track how long it takes for the kernels to stop appearing in my poo mass. Eating that much corn in a short timeframe is more difficult than it seems, and upset my guttyworks for the rest of the day. At roughly 3pm I emitted a loose coil with the consistency of soft serve icecream. The poo radiated a noticeable warmth from a few inches away but only registered a 2.5 on the stench scale. Size was hard to judge due to the tendency for it to break apart on contact with the water, but speed of movement and ease of cleanup were both low, around 1.0.
Sunday, March 11
I was startled to find the corn was making its way through my system as early as 9am this morning. Clearly regaining some form from the creamy consistency last night, the poo fell out of me in disjointed lumps, not falling apart, but also not entirely solid. Corn was throughout and if washed could pass as undigested. Ease of movement was 3.0, smell was at about a 2.0, but cleanup proved to be a difficult 4.0 due to some entanglement issues with my ass hair.
Monday, March 12
There was not much colonic activity all day, but shortly after 6pm I forced out a loaf that was almost entirely corn. I wonder if I derived any nutrition at all from those cans a few days ago, as very little appeared to be digested at all. Cleanup was an easy 2.0, but it must be said that when I changed out of my underwear for the end of the night I discovered a few escaped kernels that proved I could have wiped better. Odor and size were irrelevant, as it was all corn.
Tuesday, March 13
At work this morning I tried, seemingly in vain, to work out a movement. Although it was mostly flatulence I am certain there was some substance to it, but since I was using an industrial strength handicapped toilet, the evidence apparently slipped down the pipe to never be seen again. The wiping required some effort and a few handfuls of tp that produced an oily residue, good for a 3.0 on cleanup.
Will the corn ever stop? Will a diet rich in dairy cause a change in consistency next week? Find out next time when I give more detail on my dumpies on dump diary!
Hello! I just wanted to share with all you wonderful people a little impulse purchase I made this afternoon. You see, I was just leaving the all natural family owned vegan green grocers when I saw a lovely little computer for sale! Well, I only have four other computers, so I thought I should give it a nice home in my study.
Now we are going to give him a little undressing, maybe while I play some relaxing folk music. It is so much fun to curl up in front of my reading nook with my all-hemp jammies on and unbox a new pet computer!
Oh darn! I was hoping I would get a chance to get hands-on with the assembly! I guess the only thing I get to contribute will be my four Obama decals I got from the rallies I went to last year...
Well look at what we got here! I found a nice little home for my new 'puter right here in the corner. He sure looks cozy on his little desk. Well, I can't stay too much longer, I have some yummy hummus and red bell pepper recipes to download. Toodles!
I remember the sensation of being suspended upside down, the pressure in my head swelling to unbearable levels, and the warm, wet fluid pouring into my eyes from my mouth and nose. Drowning must be just like being born. One moment you are nothing, free floating in the womb, then someone awakens you to the suffering that will be your life until your end.
I was in a basement on an earthen floor, nude and alone. The entire length of the right side of my body was a shredded mess, but someone had dressed my wounds. My eyes however, were burning and left me in agony. I could tell that some fine sediment made its way under my eyelids and scratched grit into my pupils whenever I blinked. There was a vague recollection of being dragged across gravel and feeling dozens of small hands all over me, checking ever recess in my body for some unspoken treasure. And in that moment I wished I was dead.
A small mexican man brought me some milky colored water and only nodded when I spoke to him, clearly unable to speak english. The quality of the water and the lack of conversational english made it clear that I was on the mexico side of the border. Apparently my success came through the most difficult of possible scenarios. When the man left I poured the nasty water into my eyes to clear out the dirt, then drank the rest with the understanding that I would likely be shitting uncontrollably from sickness a few hours later. Then a large man with a large silver belt buckle entered the room followed by a little girl, no more than ten years old. I scrambled to cover my nakedness from her, but she didn't seem startled at all. She spoke. "What is your name?"
When I didn't answer the man shouted some mexican gibberish at me and kicked some dirt up from the floor. "What is your name and who is your family?" she asked again. I just stared back up at them, unsure what to do. The man barked again and the little girl ran out the door and closed it shut, and he stared at me while he began undoing his belt. I wasn't sure if I was in for a beating or a buggering, or even which I preferred in this situation, but the man's intentions became clear as he pulled the belt loose and let the large buckle dangle at the end like a savage medieval flail. I cowered with my back exposed to him like a frightened turtle as he laid into me. He aimed for the exposed part of my head and when I covered up with my hands he focused on them, my brittle fingers breaking with ease. The beating was so violent and relentless that I didn't even scream. I just laid there waiting to die. And after what seemed like an eternity he dropped the belt in the dirt next to me, the silver shine reduced to a dulled blood red, then I saw the shadow of his raised boot for the moment before I lost consciousness again.
A few days ago I started to track and describe my bowel movements. For science. I am tracking consistency, relative size, production effort, smell, and ease of cleanup all on a 1-5 scale. I promise you that my personal defecation records will be the most interesting and enlightening thing you read today.
Monday, March 4
I slept in until around 9:30 am when the pressure awakened me. Approximately eleven inches of light colored feces in an unbroken and moist chain were produced with little effort, scored at a 4 for size and 2 for effort, respectively. Smell was horrendous due to the protruding iceburg-like posture of the coil, 4.5. After several wasted handfuls of tp I resigned to the shower as the most thorough and practical option, also 4.5.
Tuesday, March 5
Had to shit when I awakened, unable to since I had to go to work. After settling in the office I visited the stall to produce a football-shaped oval of lumpy and dense poo, size rating only 2.0, although the wide midsection bottlenecked and caused a roughly seven minute shitting time, with an effort rating of 3.5. Judging by the red streak running longitudinally through the mass I should have taken more time or eaten more fiber yesterday. Smell almost nonexistent and wiping effort minimal, both at 1.0.
Wednesday, March 6
All day long I could sense the warmth of a burgeoning shit inside me. I worked through the afternoon with anticipation of the ripening in my bowels, but was unable to coax the beast out of me despite the performance of poop calisthenics (deep squats, leg lifts, and crunches). No poo to rate, and overall quite concerning.
Thursday, March 7
My concern deepened this morning when I was still unable to relieve the growing colonic pressure. I worked through the day without time or urge to complete the act. Upon returning home from work I was able to spark the breach by the consumption of two microwave burritos. A risky gamble that paid off. Produced two dark links of poo about eight inches long each, quite quickly. Almost startlingly quick, rating 1.0. Diameter was roughly the girth of a baby's arm and quite solid, rated 4.0. Smell and cleanup were both formidable, necessitating the implementation of both dampened tp and some odor coverup by air freshener and closing the bathroom door, which remained closed for the rest of the evening. Easily both could be rated a steady 4.5.
I will continue tracking my movements for your reading pleasure, and may consider experimental shitting such as documenting "tracer foods" that can be visible post-defecation. Until then, happy shitting!
Dear Popular Irony,
I married my husband four years ago, and our relationship has been absolutely wonderful throughout. He has always loved dogs, especially pitbulls, and used to breed them with his family since he was young but never owned any since we began dating because we always lived in small apartments that didn't allow dogs. I always promised him that once we had a home of our own he could get a couple dogs, and last year we finally achieved our dream and bought a lovely house in the suburbs. But that's not the only milestone we reached in our relationship, because I just found out recently that we are having a baby!
We are both thrilled about starting a family, but recently my husband started discussing buying a pitbull puppy like nothing has changed. I know I was very supportive of his love for the dogs in the past, but I'm not sure how I feel about them now that I have to worry about the safety of my unborn child! I am afraid to bring it up now since he is very adamant that pitbulls are just as safe and loving as any other breed of dog, and his feelings would be hurt if he found out I am having doubts. Popular Irony, I need help fast!
Troubled In Texas
Well, Troubled, this is a very difficult situation to resolve without one of you being unhappy with the outcome. If your husband has been very straightforward about his love for pitbulls and you have been hiding your reservations about them, then it would seem you might be on the losing end of the honesty scale here. But I understand that the safety of your family is far more important than any casual agreement you made with him before you found out you are pregnant.
But there is one saving grace in this scenario that you can use to make sure you don't find your relationship in a situation where it is strained to the breaking point. Your baby isn't born yet. Now hear me out... Pitbulls are a lot like other dogs. There are good ones, and bad ones. And much of the pitbull's personality is decided by how it is raised. If your husband buys a pup tomorrow and raises it right, then you will have nothing to worry about when it comes time to have a baby.
So buy the dog, and get yourself a secret abortion. If you tell your husband you miscarried (this might take some acting on your part, but you should have no problem managing some well-timed weeping), then he can have his dog, and your relationship will likely strengthen as a result of the "tragedy". Two birds with one stone! I just hope you haven't told your whole family you are expecting, since that would complicate matters. Hope I helped!