I debated whether I was going to write about this little episode. It’s a topic not many people (other than my sister) like to discuss. But it’s a part of life and hopefully others can look beyond the baser points and see the humour in it.
So, it was a pleasant Christmas Eve night. My parents, Jen, and I were relaxing after dinner with a couple rounds of euchre. I excused myself after one of the hands to go relieve myself. And it was here, after lifting the toilet seat, that I came face to face with the largest turd I’ve seen outside of the African Lion Safari.
What to do? What to do? My own need to relieve myself seemed secondary at that moment. First instinct? Run away. Put the lid back down, pretend I didn’t see it, go use the bathroom in my parents’ room, and get back to euchre.
But I quickly started thinking of how this could ultimately play out. Worst case scenario, my mom goes into the bathroom, finds this monstrosity, screams, blacks out at the sight of it, and hits her head on the counter. Even if she makes a full recovery she would always suspect that I had done this horrible thing.
And then I start wondering, who really was to blame? There were only 4 people in the house and one cat. I can rule the cat out just because I’m intimately familiar with his regular output into the kitty litter. As for the humans, I know it wasn’t me. And it’s inconceivable my wee mom could fabricate such a freakishly large fecality. So that leaves Jen or my dad.
So it was my dad, right? Right. Had to be. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Yup. My dad did it.
But what if it wasn’t him?
Oh my god. My mind reeled. What if it wasn’t?!?
What if my delicate flower was actually some teamster with pretty hair that, by the evidence in front of me, had consumed a 30 pound roast this morning for breakfast?
Running was no longer an option. Even if there was a slight possibility that my girlfriend had perpetrated this affront to nature, I had to take care of it before anyone else found out.
So, I attempted a flush.
Fuck. Where’s the plunger?
Fuck. It has to be in my parents’ bathroom. Out I go and grab the plunger and return for a second attempt.
And a third attempt.
And a fourth.
Sweet Jesus, it was the unflushable shit sent from beyond! But I persevered and I beat that motherfucker! As the last of that unholy creation swirled down the tubes, it was all I could do not to cry out in triumph.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and I did my best to clean up and fix a calm demeanour to my face. I had been gone far too long for a quick pit stop and I’m sure my battle with the beast had created noises that couldn’t have gone unnoticed. But back I went. I made eye contact with nobody. At that point, I didn’t want the truth. After what I’d been through, the last thing I needed was to look into my love’s face and see an unspoken apology in her eyes.
We finished the game and eventually retired for the night. It was then that I finally asked Jen if she had anything to confess. To my utter relief she disavowed all knowledge of the source of my evening’s nemesis.
So that was that. I slept easily that night. Tired from the fight but comforted that I wouldn’t have to spend my life in fear of walking into the bathroom after Jen.