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Fucked Up College Kids File 196
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Fucked Beyond Repair
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Back in my second year of college (1989) I had a dreadful (though somewhat
funny) experience of literally shitting in my pants. The actual action
embarrassed me but the psychological effects were incomprehensible.
I was reading "zines" back in 1989/1990 on a regular basis. A zine called
"Hippycore" (issue #7) had a story by Johnny Amiable about having to take a
shit and not being able to find a place. The story happily concluded with
Johnny having to buy a candy bar in order to use the gas station's
restroom. There was no shitting in ones pants and no adverse psychological
effects mentioned. After my dreadful experience I wrote a watered down
version of my story for "Hippycore" but never submitted it. So for you
lucky readers I am including the full version of FBR.
Dinner time was approaching with a bit of uncertainty. I was in my dorm
unsure whether I would eat by myself or go out with my roommates and our
mutual friends. I decided to eat with my roommate and our pals. We
traversed to the local on campus cafe (Hume Hall "all you can eat"
Cafeteria) about three quarters of a mile from our dorm area. When going
places I usually ride my bike to speed things up but since everyone else
was walking I decided to walk too(big mistake). We got to the cafeteria
(called Hume Rock but I like to call it Shit Rock-for obvious reasons) and
dished out $4.50 for an all you can eat dinner. I loaded my plate with a
variety of items, even a salad, and took a seat with my pals. Things were
going great, at least for the time being.
After siphoning down as much as possible I sat and loitered (ugh) with my
pals for about a half hour. Before I go on I would like to say that I'm
not much into "idle chat" and loitering around the restaurant after I have
finished. Perhaps, it is because of this incident that I am this way.
However, I try to think I'm over that now and just hate wasting time. So,
after getting sick of listening to everyone else's bullshit for thirty
minutes I suggested we go. After awhile we did.
As we were leaving I felt an urge to take a shit (i.e. my stomach was a bit
upset) but nothing that couldn't wait ten to fifteen minutes which the walk
home would take. I could survive.
During this walk I realized how slow time could pass. Most of my days seem
to go by so quickly I forget them but this walk, these ten minutes, I was
conscious of every second. Me and four other guys were heading back-no
problems.
About a quarter of the way home I had the "feeling" of needing to release.
The "feeling" is the first of the three stages of shitting in my opinion.
The three stages might be considered 1) sensation or "feeling", 2)
increased "feeling," pulsation of anus, 3) the actual dumping of the feces
with the possibility of pain, pulsating, "feeling," and embarrassment all
at the same time.
At the halfway mark I knew I needed to find a bathroom and quick. My mind
had been made up for me-I was not going to last another 7 minutes. Each
second seemed like an eternity. We were crossing the campus and it was
around six or seven in the evening. There were dorms as well as classrooms
mixed around. Most dorm areas were locked and at this time some campus
buildings were also locked. Risking going in a building not knowing where
a bathroom would be was definitely not a good idea. I asked a friend where
the closest bathroom was and he didn't know-great I thought. I knew I was
in deep shit then (literally). We were still walking and I was feeling the
seconds tick by-every step was a struggle. Then stage two-pulsation--
kicked in and I realized I was in for a long walk back to my dorm room. I
figure I had about three minutes left in the walk, hell that wasn't long at
all, I knew I could make it. I keep thinking I could try the next building
as I passed them. It was a gamble because each building was out of my path
home and I did not know where a bathroom could be found in any of them. It
was a risk I dared not take but knew I would lose if I didn't.
Ever notice how the more you think about something the worse it seems to
get? Well I keep thinking about having to take a shit, my ass was pounding
and the seconds were going by in slow motion. I needed to go so bad I
wanted to drop my pants and take a dump. I kept with the struggle and
after what seemed like an eternity I could see my dorm area in the
distance-we were three quarters the way home. A thought crossed my mind
that I could actually make it. But today, time and good fortune were not
on my side. Time was going too slow and it felt like shit was going to
slide right out of my ass. I was almost at stage three where I could not
control my own muscles. I had the "feeling" and my sphincter muscle was
pulsating like a mother fucker. I panicked and decided I needed to do
something RIGHT now or I was going to be shitting in my pants. I told my
pals I had to go and took off in a fast pace jog to the dorm room. At the
very least I figured it would speed up the time it took me to get to the
toilet and better yet, if I did shit my pants at least my pals wouldn't
know.
So I'm in this fast jog hoping to hell the pulsation and feeling goes away.
But it wasn't and in fact things were getting worse.my mind was working
against me as well. I somehow made it to the dorm entrance door-which is
always locked. The dorm area I lived in was four stories high with a
bathroom on each floor--females bathrooms were on the first and third
floors. So after unlocking that door I had to climb up a flight of stairs.
I climbed up the stairs two-by-two and felt stage three starting just as I
hit the second floor.
I ran in the bathroom-thankfully unoccupied. Dropped my pants and had shit
hit my pants, the toilet and the floor. I cleaned up my pants, the floor
and finished up. I went up another two flights and realized I had to do
some more. I was quite happy that I had been away from the people I knew
and was able to hold the shit down till at least I got close enough to a
bathroom. Good thing most of it was hard.
I recall at least one other time eating at the Shit Rock Cafe and having a
similar problem-upset stomach and having to take multiple shits soon
afterwards. I guess the bottom line is you get what you pay for or maybe
they put laxatives in the food there.
Most of my damage was psychological rather than embarrassment/struggle. It
will probably be hard for you to understand but imagine having to struggle
like this and during the whole time have your mind concentrating on one
thing. For me the one thing was bathroom and having to take a shit. So
after this incident-for months-I was always paranoid about going anywhere
that I would be secluded from a bathroom. On a trip, on a walk, to a
party, to the cafeteria. If I could not get from place to place within a
reasonable amount of time and have some control I would feel uneasy. It
might be easy to convince yourself everything will be okay but try
convincing your mind and try getting your mind off that struggle. I can
not even begin to tell you how deeply this has affected me. It made me
realize how strong the mind can be and how it can easily fuck you over if
you let it control you.
It is important that you grasp a few concepts from this story-as in all my
stories. Time won't always be there when you need it but it sure as hell
will seem like an eternity when you are struggling. Risk is an important
gamble in life. If I risked going into a building at the halfway point I
wouldn't be writing this fucked up story now. I'm sure I would have found
a bathroom. What does your "gut" say? If it feels it is worth the risk
maybe you should listen. As with the food at Shit Rock Cafe I believe more
and more in life that you get what you pay for. Course there are obvious
exceptions to the rule but you get the point. Finally, and what this story
is all about, is that the mind is very powerful. Experiences in life are
stored in the minds memory banks and everything contributes to make us what
we are. Some of us have been tainted with bad experiences, our minds are
fucked beyond repair.
Live and Learn,
Pallbearer
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