When Shit Happens

To celebrate the last shitty day of yet another crappy working week, here’s a collection of some of the most shitacular stories we’ve ever heard.

Illustrations by Sam Taylor --> follow him on Twitter @sptsam! WHAT A SHITTY DATE

My Danish ex-boyfriend knew this sweet, chubby guy (let’s call him "Mads") who had a crush on this girl they both knew for ages. She was super-hot, but had a long-term boyfriend, so Mads had reconciled with the idea of keeping his crush secret and his penis in the friend zone.

But when the girl called him one day in tears, saying she had been dumped, Mads instantly saw his chance, and smiled all the way to her tiny student flat where he cooked her dinner in his best clothes and aftershave. The dinner went well and they really connected on a whole different level now that the asshole boyfriend was no longer in the picture.

But shit happens. Before dessert, Mads’s nervous tummy decided it didn’t really agree with the food and he had to make a run for it. The toilet in the girl's tiny studio flat was right next to the kitchen table and there was no door, only a curtain. To avoid any embarrassing sounds, he figured it’d be a good idea to shit into some toilet paper, gently plop it into the toilet bowl. Unfortunately, on the last push, he lost his balance and tried to steady himself against the door with his free hand. Only, the door was a curtain.

He fell straight through it and landed on the floor, presenting his long-time crush with a fresh shit on a bed of toilet paper. Anyone who's experienced something similar will know that it's not really worth trying to explain, so Mads pulled his pants up and left the flat with his tail between his legs.

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SHIT AND RUN

Back when I was in college, I went to a house party and imbibed a fair amount of alcohol (this in itself was not uncommon), and then thought it’d be a good idea to piss my full name onto the garden fence (this was not uncommon, either). I fuelled up on six more beers and forced myself to hold them in, even though my bladder felt like it was about to rupture. I pissed the first 16 letters of my name legibly enough, but I knew my tank was almost empty at 18. I pushed as hard as I could, but shit happens: the pressure backfired and I pooed myself so violently I yelped in pain.

There I was, shitfaced and covered in feces, when a rush of sorority girls burst out the door. I had to save face if I were to have a chance with any of them later, so I army crawled behind the house, pooping all over myself on the way. I called my friend whose party it was and the beer tears started flowing. I explained the situation, hoping he would come help me. Instead, he cut the music and announced to the entire party that I was outside crying because I'd shit myself. I closed my phone, got up and ran down the street toward my house, shit flowing down my legs. Thankfully, no one saw me run home, but holy shit it was close. I deny it to this today because no one actually saw me and maintain I was joking when I called my friend. But he knows I wasn't lying, he heard the tears.

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SOUVENIR BAG

I had been eye-fucking this super-cute guy at the club for ages, but neither of us had the balls to take the first step. He went missing for a few months, and though I went home with other boys, I still always hoped that I would spot him and be able to summon up the courage to make a move. When I finally saw him again I was so relieved I just walked up to him as he was ordering a drink at the bar. That was that.

We talked all night and he was really nice and interesting. Obviously, I followed him home. The next morning he woke me up with a steaming cup of coffee and told me he had to leave for work, but that I could take my time and that the door locks itself. The coffee woke my tummy up. Shit happens, and after he left I had to run to the toilet. When I was done, I tried to flush but it didn’t work. I waited half an hour, tried again, but the flush was definitely broken.

Out of options, and in a hurry to leave, I decided to put the shit in a plastic bag and dump it outside his house. It was a horrible process but well worth it, as I couldn’t stand the idea of him finding the lurker I'd left in his porcelain bowl. On my way out, I took a pen and paper out of my bag and wrote him a sweet note with my number on it, left it on the doormat and walked out. Just as the door closed, I realized, “OH SHIT, the BAG!”

Aside from burning the place down or attempting to break an entrance (none of which were an option, as I had neither matches nor a crowbar) the only thing left to do was to leave in shame, with the image of his expression when finding the “Thank you, I had a great time” note right next to the bag of shit, etched into my mind. He never called me back.

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I AIN'T SHITTING IN PUBLIC FOR SHIT

My older brother has always had a fear of public toilets. When he was a kid and went to summer camp, he'd call up my granny and get her to drive the six-mile round-trip to her house whenever he needed a dump. Years later, when he was about 13, we were on a family trip to the Greek Islands and he got really pissed off with my parents for not letting him go out to the clubs and get drunk in the evenings. He fought with my parents about it throughout the week we were there, insisting that he was a man, a grown up, and that they were being unfair. They were so angry at each other that, on the last evening, when my dad took us out to a fancy seafood restaurant, my brother didn’t speak to anyone and ate his mussels in silence, occasionally casting grumpy looks around the table.

But shit happens. When he was done, he suddenly rose up and ran out towards the hotel. It turned out his strange behavior was due to him being on the verge of crapping his pants. He ran as fast as he could but didn’t make it in time and, not being man enough to wash his own shitty pants, he asked our mom to do it for him.

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CONCRETE PLAYGROUND (OF SHIT)

Years ago, I made plans to watch a film with my ex-boyfriend, and then go back to his place to fool around. I hadn’t eaten all day, so I ordered a large popcorn with extra butter that I washed down with half a gallon of coke. After the film, we walked to his car and started driving back to his spot. The ride in his piece-of-shit Cadillac was so bumpy it loosened my bowels and after a minute, shit happened: I was pinching one off at the door.

I told Ash (his real name, because who gives a fuck?) I was feeling sick and he had to pull over. He obliged, right next to a high school on a fairly busy thoroughfare. It was evening and kids were in the school field well within sight, but I decided it was worth the risk. I made it to a fence about 15 yards from Ash’s car, but before I could undo my belt, smelly liquid shit exploded all over my favorite corduroys, down my legs and into my shoes. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice. I waddled back to Ash's car to say bye, but he had no clue what the fuck had just happened. Sure, he has bad eyesight, but how could he not smell the ungodly stench?

I told him my mom would pick me up and we could meet later that night, but he wasn't having it. He demanded I get back in the car, no matter how much I pleaded with him to fuck off. After five minutes, I finally told him, “I shit my fucking pants. Are you happy?!” He fucked off then. I called my mom, explained the situation and her car pulled up 45 minutes later, towels blanketing the backseat. I spent two full hours in the shower after that, scrubbing and re-scrubbing all the caked shit off of my body. Why am I telling you this? It's been so long now, I don't give a shit.

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ANAL CATASTROPHE

When I was 16, I was in a phase of experimenting in bed with the girl who at the time was unlucky enough to be my girlfriend. Her mom, a religious lady who went to great lengths to make sure we weren’t up to no good, would often come knocking asking if we wanted anything to eat or drink, you know, the usual story.

Because of this, we’d only ever do it when we knew for sure that she was out. One evening, when her mom had left to go to the grocery store, we decided to try anal sex for the first time. Right in the middle of the act, the door flew open and her mum, who was back early, walked in. I pulled out in panic, and just as I did that, shit happened: a waterfall of liquid shit spurted out of my girlfriend’s ass, spraying myself and the bed with stinky, brown goo.

Needless to say there was no coming back from that. She was eternally grounded, I got the hell of there and have never attempted to put it in someone’s butt ever again.

Illustrations by Sam Taylor --> follow him on Twitter @sptsam!