The annals of failed hookups

From Deadspin ...

It was my last day at college for the semester, and I was leaving the state the following day to go back to my annual summer amusement park job. Over finals week, I had gotten pretty close with a girl (who I'll call Meg) and I knew this was my last chance to seal the deal before departing for three months.

We were at her house on a Saturday afternoon, when she got a knock on the door. A good friend of hers had stopped by briefly to say goodbye for the summer. This gave me a much-needed opportunity to use her bathroom for a monster dump.

This wasn't another of the liquid explosions that ruins so many hook-up attempts, but a very large solid #2. With no fans or windows in her bathroom, I knew it needed to be a quick mission-drop it and flush as quickly as possible. I was very confident in my ability to pull this off. Just as I was about to wipe up, I heard Meg invite her friend into the living room, which bordered the bathroom. I finished wiping, pulled up my pants, flushed, and... dammit. It wasn't going down.

Water was rising and nearly ready to flow over the bowl, and my crap was floating near the top, spinning around with the rising water. No plunger was anywhere to be found. Thinking quickly, I emptied her trash can and began scooping water from the toilet and into the bathtub to prevent overflow. It appeared I had at least stopped the overflow, but there was still that giant crap to deal with.

Digging through the cupboard under the sink, I found an old plastic sack with some rags in it. I picked the poop out of the toilet, placed it into the plastic bag and tied it shut, then washed my hands over and over, and added the final touch by spraying some sort of cleaning fluid everywhere to mask the odor.

I knew there was no way around the girls in the living room, so I was left with two options-either leave the bag of shit in the bathroom, or just make a run for it past them and dispose of the bag. I opted for the latter. I opened the bathroom door, darted through the living room, scurried through the kitchen, flung open the door, and side-armed that bag of crap as far as I could throw. It landed near Meg's friend's car in the parking lot.

"What the hell was that?!" asked Meg as I returned to the living room. "Why does it smell like Clorox in here?"

I thought about making up an elaborate story, but decided perhaps she and her friend would find this story humorous, so I actually told the truth. After I delivered the final line, I waited for the eruption of laughter. The only response to my tale was "So where did you throw the bag of shit?" We looked out the window and saw a pair of stray dogs clawing at it. There was to be no last-day hook-up.