others will hear this tale of this guys tail ......end that is i laughed so hard but wife not think it as funny must be a male thing...lol

 

Farts and poop are always way more funny to the male of the species...for example, I think this is funny:

 

+1 on eyes watering, I was laughing so hard I woke my 2 year son up and the wife. I give you a standing applause[sm=massbounce.gif]

 

Ok, it was a funny story and couldn't help but to laugh... but...It's plastered all over the internet since at least as far back as October of '04 (link).Nice try at trying to pass someone elses work as your own.

 

OMG I had so much tears in my eyesI could not read LOL! That really was so good ****. Hands down one of the best reads ever. And If I hear someone on there cell in the john I try to be extra loud-it's a ****ter not a phone booth.

 

+1 with tears. I had to hold down the laughter. I'm at work!!
F@$#%^ hilarious!!!!!

 

[quote]ORIGINAL: telgren

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 trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. 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. Sh1tter was blathering to Mrs. Sh1tter about the sh1tty 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

 

This was made more than a year ago. i remember reading it for the first time a long time ago. funnny every time though.

 

wow, that was the best story ive heard in a while, straight up hilarious, i felt let down because the phone mystery was left unsolved, did the phone make it, or did it end up in the sewer to forever be its home.... geez i hate cliffhangers.

 

i really do have to take a dump right now.