Volume 4

Poo Log #1: Still Young at Fart

Stink Stevens | UK | 2019

One particularly warm summer morning, I had gone out for coffee with my girlfriend. I ordered my usual, a large coconut milk crappucino – extra chocolate dust. After we finished sipping our coffees, we walked towards the train station, so my girlfriend could go home. It was then that I was overcome with an uncontrollable need to rock a big fat deuce. I decided to finish the journey to the train station, quickly said goodbye to m’lady, and then frantically started looking for the nearest establishment that would have a public bathroom. I walked into a pub about half a mile down the road, entering with a great sense of relief that I would soon be seated on my rightful throne. I got into the bathroom, and sadly the toilet seat was covered in someone else’s urine and spit. “No way I’m saddling up on that porcelain pony”, I thought to myself. I then decided that I thought I could make it back to my house, where I could poo in the utmost comfort and peace of mind. Big mistake. I made it about another five minutes, before I dropped a turd in my shorts. “There it is”, I thought. That is the unmistakable feeling of a big greasy turd in my undies. I carried on home, waddling the rest of the way. When I got in to the house, I went to the bathroom to examine the evidence. Easily the worst I’ve shit myself since I was a toddler. That was the morning after my 31st birthday.

Poo Log #2: Outhouses Are Hard to Figure Out

A person of the woods | BC, Canada | 2014

Although it’s fair to say I can now use an outhouse and public restroom without debilitating fear, this was sadly a far cry away from the truth some years ago. I recall the first time I ever used an outhouse back in 2014. It had been so long since I had last taken a dump, maybe 5 or 6 days. There was so much pressure built up inside me that when I tried to urge a pee out before work early that morning I nearly shit myself. There was no way I could relieve myself in just one way. I shivered in the crisp January mountain air and thought:

 “today is the day I go poo in this outhouse.” 

I began to position myself for the act, but having to go so bad I didn’t pull my pants down right. It was too late to make any corrections - my anus, like Old Faithful, was releasing its load and my bladder followed suit. Being in the sub-optimal position I was in, I ended up covering my entire long johns in pee. It was a disaster. I rushed into the house to prepare a quick bath in my Rubbermaid tub (I lived in the woods at that time with no real bathroom), threw a (wood)log on the fire, and hoped like hell I could get the smell off before the day began.

Poo Log #3: Poo Wars: Epoosode II – Return of the Plunger

Tim Stinkle | Andromeda Galaxy (M31) | Halloween 2017

A long time ago in a basement apartment far, far away ... I was in the middle of a Star Wars marathon when I heard a knock at my door. I paused my VCR and approached the door. I glimpsed through my peep hole hoping not to see my nagging landlord who I owed three month of overdue rent. I was relieved to see the fish-eye distorted body of an unknown person. I opened the door to a scrubby looking middle aged women with a shitty smile on her face. She said she was my neighbour. Apparently she clogged her toilet with a big old turd. I could see grease stains on her TPJ T-shirt from food that undoubtedly contributed to the plug. She asked me if she could borrow my plunger. I thought the request was pretty odd but I'm no angle in the bathroom myself so I let her have my plunger. I didn't fancy the idea of taking back a plunger that was used in someone else's toilet so I told her she could keep it. 

Days later, I received another knock at my door. The poop lady came back holding the plunger. She thanked me for the loan. Although I was confused as to why she came back several days later, I focused on the matter at hand: I told her again that this was no bailment but rather a gift of property to her.  She seemed to understand more clearly this time. Perhaps on the first encounter her mind was fogged from her toilet that was clogged. 

Months later, I discovered the poop lady was in fact a ghost who wondered the halls of the old apartment. Happy Halloween!

Poo Log #4: I Camp Poop Outside!

TB | Ontario, Canada | 2010

For a couple summers, I worked as a camp counsellor up North. Half the camp was the usual stuff: cabins, dining hall, swimming docks, etc. Once a week we would venture out into the other half of the camp to have a proper night out doing some real camping in the woods. Before we head out, we would go over some basic safety stuff with the kids. We made a point of mentioning that we cannot come back to the main camp unless there is a medical emergency, so they better do their bathroom business beforehand. I emphasise this point by saying that we are not bringing any toilet paper with us (a hideous falsehood, I always have some). We hiked out to our campsite and, within 5 minutes of setting up our tents, one kid informs me that he has to shit. I remind him of what I said before we left, and his current options are to shit in the woods or hold it. He decides to hold it. A couple hours later we have our campfire and cook our dinner. The same kid approaches and demands that he be allowed to go back to use the washroom. I tell him he has the same options as before: shit in the woods or hold it. He is not happy with this and storms off. Most nights at the camp, the kids go to bed early. Camp out nights means they get to stay up a bit later, around 11:30 pm.  At about 11:15 pm and the same kid approaches me. He ... Is ... Pissed. He angrily demands that he be allowed to go back to use the washroom. At this point I almost gave him my toilet paper. Almost. Now, this kid didn’t bring anything with him to the campsite aside from his sleeping bag. No pillow. No flashlight. No extra clothes. All things we ask them to bring. So I tell him that, since he has no flashlight, I will stand on the picnic table and point my flashlight into the woods. He can either use the light to find a spot to take his shit or he can venture into the darkness and attempt to return to main camp. I will act as a beacon until he returns. He immediately takes off into the woods and I could hear him tripping and cursing and generally having a rough go of it. He ends up out in the woods for about ten minutes before coming back. He did not say a word and went straight to bed. Thinking the shit has been taken, I go to my tent and sleep. It is customary for the counsellors to wake up extra early on camp out nights so we can clean everything up before the kids wake. And so, 4:30 am comes and my counselling partner and I wake up to get everything ready. To our great surprise, all of our kids are awake and sitting at the picnic table. After some coaxing, we discover that the same kid had in fact not taken his shit at 11:15 pm, and around 2 am had desperately gone out to shit. Since he had no flashlight, he managed to trip and fall directly into his own shit. He came back to the tent covered in shit and covered everyone else and all of their things in shit. We were forced to abandon everything and head back to the main camp. We sent everyone to the showers and my counselling partners had to go back with garbage bags to collect everything and drag it back to be washed. It was my last summer being a camp counsellor.