For the purposes of this story, I will be using the fake name Scarlett
and my boyfriend’s fake name will be Genghis.
Yes, another diarrhoea story… Please read on.
I awoke with an intense gut ache and outwards pressure of the bumhole. Diarrhoea again! It’s been two and a half weeks of diarrhoea from some nasty viral gastroenteritis, but today will be different. Today I get to shit on a Sainsbury’s Basics paper plate. The reason for such an exciting event so early in the morning is that yesterday I was at the doctor’s where they gave me a plastic tube into which I was expected to place a sample of diarrhoea for their poo-examining laboratory workers to rifle through in search of germs (and in search of their dreams). I was all set to collect my sample – the sample-collection plan had been devised the previous day. I would line my notoriously trustworthy Addis bucket with a Sainsbury’s plastic shopping bag, into which I would place my Sainsbury’s Basics paper plate. I would then let loose my brown buttock juice onto the plate and scoop some into the plastic tube using the scooper attachment in the lid. I could feel the pressure building. I was so excited, I just couldn’t hide it, I was about to lose control and I was thinking I liked it! But I wanted it to build up pressure for a few minutes to achieve explosive heights of awesomeness, so I went downstairs and announced excitedly to Genghis what was about to happen, drank a glass of water, and then ran back upstairs for the big moment. It is hard to find the words to convey just how excited I was. It had been years since I last shat in a bucket, which is far too long for any decent, well-rounded individual such as myself. Moreover, this time it would be even better because I would get to shit onto a paper plate in the bucket and the shit wouldn’t just be any old shit, it would get to be diarrhoea, the king of shit! Will the wonders of life never cease?
The whole operation went superbly well, the sample-containing plastic shit-tube went in the fridge next to the sliced sandwich chicken and beetroot, and I proceeded to get ready for work. On the way to work I was to drop off the sample at the Unwieldy Bottom Medical Centre, and then proceed to the bus stop with a skip in my step, a whistle on my lips, and a gay feeling in my heart.
All was not to run as smoothly as expected, for I was to cross paths with angry-man-in-a-suit who was in a hurry to get where he was going. He stormed past people and banged into me.
“Oi!” I shouted at him. “Watch where you’re going! There’s diarrhoea in my bag and I don’t want you to bugger it up!”
“Yes!” shouted another woman taking my side. “Peoples’ bags can contain all kinds of valuable items that would be better off if they were not buggered by you!”
When I arrived at the Unwieldy Bottom Medical Centre reception, there was a queue of two people ahead of me. In walked a jovial delivery man. He turned to me and raised his hat in polite greeting. He said his name was Montgomery Hasselhoff Downey Jr and he was here to deliver a box of rectal specula and rubber gloves. I returned his polite greeting, told him my name was Dr Scarlett Shatner-Bucket and I was here to deliver diarrhoea. We could see we were like two pees in a pod, we were moulded from the same mashed potato, but the romance could never go anywhere as we were both already spoken for. We bid each other farewell and walked off into the sunrise. (Not the same sunrise. Different sunrises. Away from each other.)
Disclaimer: For legal purposes, it must be stated here that some small details of this story are not entirely of the non-fiction variety.
Gotta go! Diarrhoea! (That’s not even a lie.)