To keep you all entertained in the meantime, here's a humorous story about my childhood:
Becca Poops
My mother used to put my brother Jameson and I down for naps around noon. She said that when we didn't get our naps we were cranky little assholes. So, around noon one day, she put us down for our nap. Nothing unusal about this day, just a normal nap in which Jameson and I would pretend to sleep while our mother drank and watched some 80s version of the Jerry Springer Show.
Except on this day, I actually fell asleep, as did Jameson. When I awoke, nestled next to my arm was a bright, shiney new poop. I don't know how it got there, but I was certain it was my own. I panicked! I knew how my mother reacted when I wet the bed, I was SURE she would be angry as hell if suddenly her daughter was pooping in her sleep - out of her ARM NO LESS!
So, I run to the bathroom. Not to flush it mind you. No. For whatever reason, my 4 year old self didn't see that as a viable option at the time. I grabbed toilet paper.
I came back to the bedroom, and covered the poop with toilet paper, thinking to myself, "Yes, that will surely fool everyone!"
Then - reality seeped in, like the smell of a freshly laid turd on a bedsheet (which in this case, WAS actually seeping at this point) - this wouldn't do. No, this wouldn't do at all! Who would believe that someone came into my bedroom, took a crap on my bed, then carefully covered it with toilet paper. No this wouldn't do at all! So, I looked around the room, wrenching my four-year-old chubby hands in worry. Then I saw it. My savior!
My brother had two toy boxes for his leggos. One blue, and one red. They were about 6 inches deep, and a foot long. I liked the blue one, that was the one with the better, newer leggos. The red box's fate was sealed.
I carefully empied the leggos into the blue box, one by one, as to not make any noise to wake up Jameson, or alert my mother. Then I carefully picked up my little brown friend, and laid it in the box. Crawling under Jameson's bed, I put it as far back as I could. And laid back down on my bed, sure of my freedom and confident in my crime.
After Jameson woke up, we went downstairs, played for awhile, and the turd was completely out of my mind.
Three months later, it was July. The house we were living in did not have air conditioning. Our bedroom was on the top floor. My mother complained that our bedroom smelled like the ape house at the zoo. By this time, I had completely forgotten the turd.
By fall, the smell had almost completely disappeared. But my mother - oh my mother - the clean freak, decided that she MUST CLEAN OUR ROOM OR THAT SMELL WILL RETURN! So, in the midst of cleaning our room, she finds the red leggo box.
The anxiety overflowed in me. Again, I began wrenching my little pudgy four year old hands. Oh what to do! I am about to be found out! Deep down inside of me though, I wondered if it would still be there. When you go in the bathroom, it just disappears! Maybe it won't be there...maybe it will have just gone away...my mother opens the box...
Inside, there was a white, petrified turd, completely surrounded by mold. When I say surrounded I mean the mold covered every inch of the box. My mother let out a blood curtling scream and dropped the box. I caught a glimpse of what was inside, and was AMAZED!
I had given birth to a miracle! My poop died, and in it's wake it left a ghost! And a surprising amount of mold! I'm gonna be FAMOUS! I made a ghost turd!
But my jubilation did not last. My mother saw my little hands clapsed in excitement, and instantly knew it was me.
The icy glare. Oh how I will never forget it! She used my full name in asking me WHY IN GOD'S NAME I TOOK A SHIT IN MY BROTHER'S LEGGO BOX. i wasn't quite sure what a shit was, but even though I was in trouble - I was still excited. After all, I made a miracle!
She didn't even let me explain my overjoyment of discovering this miracilous event because she reamed me out and punished me. I belive my father's suggestion was to let my brother shit in my dollhouse. My mother was horrified. I thought it was a pretty good suggestion - perhaps then we could make ANOTHER ghost poop!
Many years would go by in which after taking a poop I would wait and watch it in the water, figuring it would drown and leave behind a ghost for me to show my mother and thereby have another miracle under my belt. It never happened. Oh well. Such is life.
Except on this day, I actually fell asleep, as did Jameson. When I awoke, nestled next to my arm was a bright, shiney new poop. I don't know how it got there, but I was certain it was my own. I panicked! I knew how my mother reacted when I wet the bed, I was SURE she would be angry as hell if suddenly her daughter was pooping in her sleep - out of her ARM NO LESS!
So, I run to the bathroom. Not to flush it mind you. No. For whatever reason, my 4 year old self didn't see that as a viable option at the time. I grabbed toilet paper.
I came back to the bedroom, and covered the poop with toilet paper, thinking to myself, "Yes, that will surely fool everyone!"
Then - reality seeped in, like the smell of a freshly laid turd on a bedsheet (which in this case, WAS actually seeping at this point) - this wouldn't do. No, this wouldn't do at all! Who would believe that someone came into my bedroom, took a crap on my bed, then carefully covered it with toilet paper. No this wouldn't do at all! So, I looked around the room, wrenching my four-year-old chubby hands in worry. Then I saw it. My savior!
My brother had two toy boxes for his leggos. One blue, and one red. They were about 6 inches deep, and a foot long. I liked the blue one, that was the one with the better, newer leggos. The red box's fate was sealed.
I carefully empied the leggos into the blue box, one by one, as to not make any noise to wake up Jameson, or alert my mother. Then I carefully picked up my little brown friend, and laid it in the box. Crawling under Jameson's bed, I put it as far back as I could. And laid back down on my bed, sure of my freedom and confident in my crime.
After Jameson woke up, we went downstairs, played for awhile, and the turd was completely out of my mind.
Three months later, it was July. The house we were living in did not have air conditioning. Our bedroom was on the top floor. My mother complained that our bedroom smelled like the ape house at the zoo. By this time, I had completely forgotten the turd.
By fall, the smell had almost completely disappeared. But my mother - oh my mother - the clean freak, decided that she MUST CLEAN OUR ROOM OR THAT SMELL WILL RETURN! So, in the midst of cleaning our room, she finds the red leggo box.
The anxiety overflowed in me. Again, I began wrenching my little pudgy four year old hands. Oh what to do! I am about to be found out! Deep down inside of me though, I wondered if it would still be there. When you go in the bathroom, it just disappears! Maybe it won't be there...maybe it will have just gone away...my mother opens the box...
Inside, there was a white, petrified turd, completely surrounded by mold. When I say surrounded I mean the mold covered every inch of the box. My mother let out a blood curtling scream and dropped the box. I caught a glimpse of what was inside, and was AMAZED!
I had given birth to a miracle! My poop died, and in it's wake it left a ghost! And a surprising amount of mold! I'm gonna be FAMOUS! I made a ghost turd!
But my jubilation did not last. My mother saw my little hands clapsed in excitement, and instantly knew it was me.
The icy glare. Oh how I will never forget it! She used my full name in asking me WHY IN GOD'S NAME I TOOK A SHIT IN MY BROTHER'S LEGGO BOX. i wasn't quite sure what a shit was, but even though I was in trouble - I was still excited. After all, I made a miracle!
She didn't even let me explain my overjoyment of discovering this miracilous event because she reamed me out and punished me. I belive my father's suggestion was to let my brother shit in my dollhouse. My mother was horrified. I thought it was a pretty good suggestion - perhaps then we could make ANOTHER ghost poop!
Many years would go by in which after taking a poop I would wait and watch it in the water, figuring it would drown and leave behind a ghost for me to show my mother and thereby have another miracle under my belt. It never happened. Oh well. Such is life.
1 comment:
Anne that just made my fucking day..You never cease to amaze me with your childhood stories
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