'Tis the season for things that terrify, so I feel the time is ripe to share this tale of terror, even though 'tis a story of Thanksgiving, and not Halloween. However, it was an event that chills me to the bone to recount, and the shame of this moment has kept me silent for nigh on twenty years. It is an evil that dare not speak its name, nay, its name is tooted! For it is the story of The Toiletbreaker, the poo that shall live in infamy.
It was the fall of 1992. I had recently began dating a guy, let's call him Tom to protect his true identity. Tom had invited me over for Thanksgiving with his family. I had never met them before and was trying to be on my best behavior in their very nice home. After some light socializing, Tom's mother announced dinner was being served. I realised I felt the call of nature, so I quickly excused myself to the powder room before we ate. To my discomfort, I was conducted to a 1/2 bathroom off a short hallway connecting the kitchen to the dining room, where Thanksgiving dinner was being laid out for twelve people.
How could my body betray me at such an occasion? Apparently, my colon had brewed up an inopportune, enormous fecal specimen I like to think of as "the Toiletbreaker." This horrible monster was at least 12" long and filled the bowl in a giant U-shape, the ends of which protruded from the water like two terrible islands of malodorous bacteria. I was aghast when I saw what had come out of me! Immediately, without thinking of the consequences, I flushed the toilet in an effort to make it, and its residual odor, disappear, as if somehow, this nice happy family sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner a mere 3 feet away would be polluted by its very existence (who the fuck puts a toilet in between the kitchen and the dining room anyhow?).
Of course, the U-shaped turd collapsed in on itself and completely clogged the toilet after only passing halfway through the tunnel. My mortification rose with the water that quickly filled the bowl, and spilled over into panic as the water just barely spilled over the rim onto the floor. You can imagine my horror. I couldn't ask for help from Tom, everyone had just sat down to eat. There was no way I was going to admit what I had done, and there was definitely no way I was going to risk another flush, as the water would have literally leaked under the door and under the table where they were eating. I was trapped!
I had no choice but to try and solve this quandary myself. As quietly as a kid sneaking through a haunted house, I opened the door to the bathroom and snuck into the kitchen, looking desperately for any kind of non-porous implement I could use to push the offender through the hole and allow the toilet to flush. All that was available were the kitchen utensils Tom's poor nice mother had just used to cook Thanksgiving dinner. Panic was rising and sweat was beading on my brow, I could be caught at any moment! Finally, I spied a spatula, which I grabbed and hastily tiptoed back to the toilet.
Just as I got safely back inside, Tom's father passed by and asked me if I was ..."okay in there." I could not have been more mortified. I said I would be right out and sent a silent prayer to Commodus, Lord of Toilets for a speedy delivery, and I pushed that thing down to the hell to which it belongs! With a silent whoosh, the clog cleared and the toilet flushed! I heaved a sigh of relief. Then, I used toilet paper to sop up the minor spillage and wipe the "chocolate" residue from the bowl, being careful not to make another clog. Then I quickly went back to the kitchen, praying that no one would ask what I was doing with that spatula, and where did I get chocolate frosting??
I washed everything in the sink with bleach and stuck the damn spatula in the dishwasher just in time for Tom to come in and ask me what was taking so long. I said, "Oh the bathroom was out of soap, so I was just washing my hands in here, and washed a few dishes while I was at it."
Ha, Ha! I thought to myself, little do they know what a terrible person I am!
Tom said, "You're so thoughtful to help my mom clean up! But, you should come eat."
Somehow, I managed to sit down at the table and face those people, knowing I had totally defiled their house. I didn't think I would be able to come back for Christmas, because I was never going to eat anything cooked in that kitchen again.
Now in my defense (as if any were needed), I need to mention a salient point. At this time in my life, I was beginning to struggle with the more severe spectrum of side effects of undiagnosed celiac disease. It would take another 15 years before I would find a doctor who knew why I suffered from terrible gastrointestinal distress that would make attending functions such as this nice family dinner completely impossible for me in the not-too-distant future. I have far too many stories about me and unpleasant toilet situations which I have chosen to laugh at rather that be ashamed. After all, I'd rather laugh than cry. I can't help that I was sick, and let's face it, shit happens. And shit is funny.
The moral of this horror story is one I learned well... check your bathroom strategies first. Or, never, ever poop in your boyfriend's parent's house.
Here's hoping your Halloween is a little less scary!
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