Then, realizing the potential of a steaming pant-full for weirding someone out, I reconsidered. I’d better keep this on the down-low if I want any chance of impressing women.
OOPS I CRAPPED MY PANTS COMPILATION FULL
There’s nothing like a full diaper to jolt you back into consciousness. As I left, with mind elsewhere, my sworn enemy-the shart-crept out of me from behind. In the toilet, I dwelled on an intriguing tile and promptly forgot the purpose of my visit. Not wanting to be a wet, ungrateful blanket, I accepted, despite the line looking a tad adventurous. I don’t think I could have loved my mum more in that moment. She held them in her hands, looked at them for half a second, then without a fuss or so much as a word or a look, went and rid me of them once and for all. The fuckers had come back to haunt me.īefore I could do anything, my mum caught sight of them and with an “ooooooops!” plucked them down, assuming they’d gone astray from the washing process. To my horror, I spotted my undead briefs glaring back at me, dangling smugly from a bush in plain sight. Only some light chafing confirmed that the night’s stinky mishap wasn't an ugly dream. I awoke to my mum's humming, as she hung out the washing on the makeshift line between our tent and the chain link fence that separated us from the cliff face. I bombed back to my tent and shotput-tossed the contaminated undies over the cliff and into the darkness. Disposing of the trace evidence was crucial. Yet to accept shitting my pants as a unique, hilariously quirky character trait, I was mortally embarrassed and couldn’t handle my family finding out I’d shit my pants like a little shitty pants pants-shitting baby. I bowed deeply, then nimbly began the operation of using newspaper and my boozy prosthetics to cleanse my asshole. One witness let rip a manic cackle, only to have his laughter muffled in his throat by an eruption of upchuck, as if he were chuckling at his own drowning. With each telling, the trajectory grows more cartoon-like in its explosiveness. My warped sense of pride just couldn’t take that.ĭecision reached, I positioned myself on the far side of the fire and toasted my little brother with a short speech, rounding off with “Happy Birthday!” Then, with a sharp 180-degree turn, I pivoted to reveal a bare booty, ceremoniously parted my cheeks and ejected a bursting, viscous fountain of liquefied crap, coating the open fire. An unscheduled pit stop could jeopardize my title hopes. While the others prodded the fire and joked, I hovered, weighing up my options. Still, my years of field experience told me: this ain't over. I was making serious headway through the left-hand bottle when nature called, but only to spitefully inform me that I’d already shit my pants.Ī shart, as stealthy as it was soggy, slipped under the radar of my ever-faltering warning system it was an un-ignorable, but not devastating, quantity. I might have gotten away with it, if I hadn’t birthed a scaled-down replica of the sun.Įventually the laughter died, and we stood over my ungodly creation in silent awe.Īs an overweight, alcoholically-ambidextrous urinal personality, with terrible circulation and a can-do attitude, I was odds-on favorite.
Beaming complacently up at me was a perfectly spherical, meatball-sized ball of phosphorus orange dung. The sounds of Jake's guffaws alerted me that I’d been rumbled. Then with a stealthy flick of my school pants, my poop was liberated. I felt it bounce and trail stodgily down my hamstring like a slug in the breeze. “I feel all right actually,” I mumbled, a little too chirpily, taking off at a suspicious pace. I’d shit my pants.Īs I was wearing those old-school baggy grandpa boxers, there was no safety net. A flinch triggered an involuntary squeeze.
Not really appreciating the severity of the situation, he laughed and began shadowboxing inches from my troubled gut. I couldn’t keep up the front and risked sharing my burden with Jake. Like a weary gunslinger, I waddled bravely on. There was still a good 200 feet until we reached home. One inadvertent clench of my butt cheeks, and I was done for.
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