Monte

Today at the office, I went to the men’s restroom to take care of some business and discovered that the previous occupant had clogged the toilet. After flushing a couple of times to no prevail, I decided to use the women’s restroom instead. This wasn’t too big a deal considering there are only two women who work in our office. I let both know ahead of time I’d be using their facilities.

So I went into the women’s bathroom and chose one of the two available stalls, sat down and did my thing. When finished, I stood up, zipped up, and tapped the lever on the side of the toilet with my foot. The water churned for a second and stopped. My heart skipped a beat. I tapped the lever again. The water churned and stopped. Again I tapped. Again, nothing happened. The water just bubbled, and the toilet’s contents bobbed to the surface.

And there you have it: The scariest moment in a man’s life. My heart was pounding, and my head was racing. “I gotta get rid of it! I can’t let anybody see this!”

In moments of great stress and helplessness, our minds tend not to think straight, and we do things we wouldn’t normally do—and I did the unthinkable.

I reached into the toilet bowl with my bare hands, fished out my own poo, carried it to the next stall over, plopped it into the toilet and flushed. Unfortunately, the poo broke in half on my first try, so I had to make two trips.

I’m an awful person.