(suspenseful music)
- [Voiceover] So a few years ago,
my girlfriend and I, we decided to go
see a movie downtown.
And for some idiotic reason,
we decided to buy one of those giant buckets of popcorn
and I actually ended up eating most if not all of it
before the movie had even started.
So, stupid decision, and I guess you can say
that's where the read drama begins.
After the movie ends, we're walking to the car,
and I just feel sick, but I'm able to fight that off
with thinking, you know, it's 25 minutes until we get home,
it's not really going to be a problem.
So we get into the car, and we're driving,
and all of a sudden the popcorn in my body
just decides to change direction towards the poop realm.
And I'm not going to share this with my girlfriend,
so I just keep it to myself.
My body is just rigid with tension
trying to just hold this in.
So we're driving, and we just run into
a giant wall of bumper to bumper traffic,
and I think oh my God, this is the end.
My girlfriend can clearly sense that something is wrong,
so she looks over at me, and calmly but blatantly
just goes, "Do you have to poop?"
And our relationship wasn't necessarily at poop status yet,
but I just kind of looked straight forward
and just said, "Yep."
We think, OK, you know what, our best option
is probably to take the next exit whatever it is.
However the next exit that was coming up
was just a really bad neighborhood.
We decided, you know what, that's what has to happen.
So we get off the exit, and I'm driving like Jason Bourne.
I'm just weaving in and out of traffic,
and we make a turn, and I can see there's a (beep)
in the distance, and I think, oh my God, salvation.
But then this really fast thought process
just rockets through my head,
and I think, no, this can't be an option
because if you go in there,
and there's someone in the bathroom,
or they're cleaning it, or it's locked,
or whatever the reason, you're gonna poop your pants
in front of 30 plus people, in a bad neighborhood.
So all of those kind of mark off the checklist,
this isn't going to work, and I just decide,
you know what, game time decision.
Let's drive my car over the sidewalk
and just behind this abandoned factory building.
I scamper out of this car like a wild animal,
I run behind a dumpster, and I just shit my brains out.
I've never felt lower as a human being in my entire life.
But the next step now is how do I clean myself up?
So I ditch the underwear, use that as toilet paper,
and I'm looking around for what else I can use
and think, no, you're behind an abandoned factory,
you'll need a Tetanus shot in your asshole.
So that's not gonna be an option.
So I pull my pants up, I kind of waddle back to the car.
My girlfriend is hysterically laughing this entire time.
And I'd cleaned out my car the day before,
so there was nothing I could use.
Napkins, paper towels, nothing.
But there were Google map directions,
so I decided to use those, go back behind the dumpster,
clean myself up as best as I can to that point,
get back into the car, I'm smelling terrible,
continue our drive home, eventually we make it home.
I take a shower, I'm back to a full human being status,
and for the rest of that day and into the night,
this thought process that just
kind of lodged itself in my brain was,
what if someone goes behind that dumpster,
and they see this mess of just human poop everywhere,
and they think, "Oh my god, who did this?
What kind of disgusting monster is responsible for this?"
And then his partner, I guess, picks up a piece of paper
and says "Here's his Google map directions.
His address is right here.
Let's go get him."
And that doesn't make any sense,
but that's what I had in my head.
Needless to say, I was never held
accountable for my actions, so that is good.
And I'm proud to say that the brave lady
in that story is still my girlfriend today.
I would say that poop brought us closer together.
(suspenseful music)