Why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom....

[Nostril Cheese]

Friend just sent this to me, cracking up

"All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning
computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething
cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over
forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the
process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal,
following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch
at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with
subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things
would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to go Christmas shopping. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go.
I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have
numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:

1.Occupied.

2.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

3.Poo on seat.

4.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

5.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of
toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trousers and
sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ****ter. I wasn't happy about being
next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds
of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone
conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of
Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. ****ter was blathering to Mrs. ****ter about the ****ty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer
cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand
against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded
with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone
ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall.
The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not
unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency
of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my *** cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became
apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's
continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the
bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a
gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had
ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of
choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear
that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear
that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and
blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in
me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later,
in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to
ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now,
all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he
desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made
themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up...
in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..."
followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at
the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding
down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear
words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I
could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal
announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily
into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a
fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him
running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage.
I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew
that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that
unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl.
Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom
with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a
face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom."

[mikester]

You owe me for a phone.

[Tim Hancock]

I hate the cheesy internet speak "LOL", but I have to say, I truly giggled out loud as I read that!

[Rick V]

Classic, well written, and performed masterfully as only a runny, pressurized colon could do.
Thanks for the laugh.

[gassy]

Truly, tears in my eyes. Stomach hurting

[t6dpilot]

Tim, you only giggled?! I laughed my friggin' head off through the whole thing. As a matter of fact, I am laughing at just the thought of my laughing...

Well written sir, bravo!

[Porsche-O-Phile]

That's literally laugh-out-loud hilarious! Well-written to the point of stand-up material. Excellent!

People that feel the need to engage in mobile phone conversation (anything longer than a "lemmee call you right back") are fair game. I've done the blow-the-air-against-the-back-of-your-hand thing to simulate horriffic flatulence before just to get some yammering dunderhead to hang it up, but nothing even remotely as choice as described above.

A+

And I don't give those often.

[ben parrish]

You disgusting fool...I can't breath I am laughing so hard. My three year old jusat came in the room, pulled the screen toward herself and asked " what are you looking at?"

[MichiganMat]

[slodave]

Very nice. Very graphic, but way funny!!!! Thank you for the laugh.

[goat]

OMG!! too Funny!!

[rouxroux]

I don't think I've laughed like this in years! Certainly my vote for poop joke of the year! Brilliant delivery!

[Mr_Wizard]

Holy S H I T. No pun intended. I am sitting here on my couch laughing my ass off, tears in my eyes. My girlfriend is looking at me as if I have lost it. The dog just came by to see if I was dying. That just made my day. That one gets printed off and put on my board at work.

[red-beard]

I was laughing so hard, my wife came in to ask what was going on...

[Joeaksa]

Wonderful, really excellent!!!

I really needed that. Have been really sick after getting dysentery in India 5 days ago. Confined to the bed for 3 days, farting was only a faint dream until recently (otherwise known as "after antibotics" arrived) and a laugh was out of the question.

This is the first good laugh in a week and felt really good. Hope that that wuss in the other stall enjoyed it as well!

[on2wheels52]

Disgusting, but funny. How much do janitors get paid these days?
I knew a junior high custo who was having trouble with girls leaving lipstick marks on the mirror, ie kissing it. He showed a few of them what he was going start using to clean it with- the toilet brush. His job got a bit easier.
Jim

[Nostril Cheese]

=) thought we all could use a good laugh

[Rikao4]

Thank you Cheese, just got back from the dentist..numb face, this made me laugh and smile.."I think"
Rika

[fingpilot]

Very similar vein, pardon the pun.

I went into a stall at DFW airport. You all know how many of these there are in each bathroom. Like 30 of them in a row.

I had just sat down and was getting comfortable when someone's cell phone rang loudly. I heard a couple of grimaces, and the the phone was answered with the following phrase....

"Honey, I told you never to call me here..."

It was a farting, laughing out loud standing ovation for the guy....

[wreckersteve]

I love when my wife calls my phone while I'm in the moment. I will ignore it. She will call back. I answer her and tell her to I will call back. "Oh it will just take a sec. Blah blah blah" FART " what are you doing" ****ting. "gross call me back"