04:39am (Grandfather Pete’s house – Culmination (Mistakes are made))
Throughout the weekend I had festooned the bowl with great evil. Convalescing after my stomach pump was essential, and, weak and unstable on my feet I had used a bedside bucket for most of the soilings.
I didn’t want to risk pooing on the floor, so I pulled the bucket up snug against my cheeks before launching my dung into it. At first this was a fine method, but as the bucket began to fill with poo it became very heavy. By the time it was 2/3 full I could barely lift it.
An accident was depressingly inevitable. As I coiled off another steaming broth of chunky intestinal soup into the pile, I wished I hadn’t been so lazy and emptied the bucket in the last 48 hours. Once would have been enough, but I had let the stinking excrement build up and up until the bowl was nigh overflowing.
The force of the blast was too much. The bucket slipped and skidded from my fingertips. Unable to stop the torrent I sprayed my super-heated poo across the room and into the open wardrobe, plastering the vestments with dung. Lumps of it slid down the lapels of shirts, dripped from belt buckles, and trickled into pockets. Some items would most likely need to be washed.
Worse than this, though. Worse than evacuating my bowels into mid air and coating the clothes with poo. Worse still I had dropped the bucket, containing two days worth of sloppy, putrescent faeces.
The room was instantly transformed into a medieval nightmare. The moister upper layer of poo liquified on impact and exploded into the air, splashing into my mouth and eyes, blinding me. The second, thicker layer poured from the bucket like a tidal wave. I floundered in the poo river and was carried into the kitchen by the surf, barely able to keep my head above p-level.
It reminded me of the terrible Asian tsunamis of late and how helpless the wave had left those trapped in it, only this was surely worse.
I came to a halt nude, upside down and with my head resting against the oven. My body, like the kitchen, was head to toe covered in turd, my nose and ears were blocked, my eyes blinded, and even my anus had become impacted with the mess.
I became instantly grateful that I had taken up the offer of a bed at my grandfather’s house while I recovered. I ran back to my bed, grabbed my clothing and slipped out into the night, leaving the front door open so as not to wake the dear old man.
Luckily for me I knew that senility would soon sink in, and he would no doubt be blamed for the devastating mess I had made. Before leaving I made sure of this, doing a small poo in his hands and smearing my grandmother’s name on the wall, aswell as planting Joe Pasquale memorabilia around the house.
Satisfied, I gave the sweet man a tender kiss on his forehead and became a ghost