The Inner Dialogue Of A Guy Taking A Dump In A Bar Bathroom

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Nice Move

Fuck. This is not good. My gut sounds like a diesel engine right now. Why did I eat all those tacos earlier? They seemed like a great idea at the time, but fuck. Is Jeff bringing Fireball shots over here? Shit. Jeff is bringing Fireball shots over here. I can’t not take them, but something tells me they’re only going to make things worse. Well, here we go. Down the hatch. Why the hell do we drink this crap? Dammit. No. That only made things worse. Like ten times worse. I’m about to blow a gasket. Yeah, so this is going to happen.

I’ve never had my stomach rumble like that. I’m pretty sure I felt the vibrations all the way in my toes. Why is this happening right now? I went to church last Sunday, that should’ve had me covered for at least a few days, but no. If I crap my pants here, in this bar, there is officially no God. There’s a veritable gut demon possessing my gastrointestinal tract. I’ll just tell everyone I’m going to take a piss or something. Nothing out of the ordinary. Thanks, Brad. That’s a great idea. Order me a beer and by the time I’m back, it’ll be here. Alright, just going to head on over to the bathroom now.

Where the hell is the bathroom? I just navigated through several hundred inebriated and sweaty bodies and now I have no idea where the hell the shitter is. Is that it back there? No. That’s a broom closet. Might have to resort to that if I don’t find this place shortly. My internal PSI gauge is in the red. How can tacos do this to me? I knew being loosely related to Zachary Taylor would come back to haunt me one day. Stupid Mexican-American War karma. Having California isn’t worth this. Maybe I just need to rip ass…

OH GOD DANGER ZONE.

Nope. Not trying that again. Almost lost it. Almost shit myself in a crowded bar. There’s no coming back from that.

Okay, I think I see it there. Yup, that’s it. Who puts a bathroom all the way back here? That’s just poor planning. Wait. There’s a line? There’s a fucking line? Dammit, guys. Come on! I’m pretty sure my eyes are turning brown. I’m not going to make it. I can’t do it. Please, God. Help me. Is there a patron saint of guys who are about to shit their pants? I’m going to need some divine intervention here.

Finally. I’m in the bathroom. Is that stall open? Yes? Thank you, God. Why did I have to wear a belt? Why is this belt so hard to unbuckle and take off? It’s like I have to shit so bad I’ve lost all my fine motor skills or something. Pants are down and it’s go time.

Yeeeeesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

Holy shit. Literally. Holy shit. I don’t think my ass was even in contact with the toilet seat there. I don’t care how many people are in here right now, hearing and smelling this atrocious act. This is sheer relief. Oh, shut the fuck up out there! Nothing out of the ordinary here. Just a guy taking a massive and very audible dump in a crowded bathroom. Grow up. You’ve all been here!

Seriously? You’re pounding on the door of the stall? Does it sound like I’m remotely close to being done here? You’re probably just going to piss all over the seat anyway. You’ll just make it harder for the next guy in my shoes. Okay, I get it. You want me to hurry up. Chill the fuck out, man. Nature is taking its course over here. You can’t have to use this stall that bad. Hell, you’re probably just looking for a place to do blow. I’m in here trying to take a 100% legal dump, and here you come with your damn narcotics. Who’s in the wrong here, bud? That’s what I thought.

Might as well whip out my phone while I’m in here. Is Katie coming out tonight? I’ll shoot her a text for good measure. Not going to let something like this get in the way of some late-night activities. Should I tweet something? Eh, why not. Might as well do something to burn the time. End it with #TwitterFromTheShitter? Nah, I don’t know if the people can handle this or not.

Okay, I think I’m done. Nope. We got some stragglers. Alright, now I’m done. Why the fuck is this toilet paper so thin? All the money we pump into this place and they can’t even afford some two-ply? This is like old sand paper. This is going to take at least two flushes, and then probably one extra courtesy flush. I’m not a barbarian. Nice. I didn’t clog it. That would’ve been a bit awkward to explain.

Alright, time to get back out there. Just got to wash my hands for a good five minutes. Wait. Has that bathroom attendant been here the whole time? Shit, now I feel like an asshole. He’s laughing at me. I feel like he’s probably seen worse, though. There’s no way he hasn’t seen a couple of puke/shit combos. Bastard should be thanking me for keeping it all in bowl. I’ll give him a big tip. Dude has to go home to his wife and kids day in and day out after witnessing gruesome dumps like this. Yeah, actually, I would like a stick of gum. Not sure why, but I just feel like I need it. Got to be the minty freshness.

What the fuck? What’s everyone doing out here by the bathroom? There’s Brad with my beer. Why does Andy have his phone out like he’s filming something? Oh, fuck me. A round of applause. Fuck you guys.

BlutarskyTFM (@BlutoGrandex) is a contributing writer for Total Frat Move and Post Grad Problems, the self-appointed Senior Military Analyst for TFM News, founder of the #YesAllMenWhoWearHawaiianShirts Movement, and, on an unrelated note, a huge fan of buffets. While by no means an athletic man, he was the four-square champion of his elementary school in 1997. When not writing poorly organized columns or cracking stupid, inappropriate jokes on Twitter, Bluto pretends to be well-read, finds excuses not to exercise, and actually has a real job.

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