The Mind of Spaz

I thought I was the best.  Mind you, I’m still good, I’m just not the best.

You see, this weekend, someone out poo’d me.

That’s right.  Someone outdid old Captain Colon himself.

It was Saturday.  My friend Big Eddie (name changed to protect the guilty) was over helping me with my basement renovations.

When I say big Eddie, I mean BIG.   The man says he’s 6’4″. Yea right, maybe because he slouches.  He’s an easy 350 lbs.  This guy is a shaved bear.

We were working away with some insulation. He stood up, sniffed, and asked what the hell that smell was.

I told him it was the dog.  She farts when she gets nervous or excited.

Eddie took that as competition to his overactive anal gland. He hoisted a meaty hoof in the air, his face wrinkled in concentration, trying to push one out.

Push one out he did.

You see, I’d fed him some lunch.  We were at home depot buying several thousand drywall screws.

Hey, don’t look at me like that. Everybody likes a good screw. Why not several thousand?

Anyways, he was hungry so I bought him some lunch from the Harvey’s located right inside the home depot.

No side salad and a chicken burger for this man. No, no way. Large pop, poutine (with extra gravy and cheese), and a huge sirloin bacon cheeseburger.

Back up an hour to when we got to my house.  As I was cutting insulation, I heard his large round belly give a resounding gurgle, followed by a second and third, longer gurgle.

“Eddie, are you ok?”

“Yea Spaz.  It’s just lately, fast food has really been affecting my digestion.  An hour or two later and I’m not doing so good, usually.”

Uh, is that so.  I have a moose in my house with an upset anal gland, with only one toilet.

Fast forward now to when Eddie decided to compete with my dog in an impromptu farting competition, and come hell or high water he was going to win.

Like my dog gives a shit and I want a monster of a man crapping his pants to “beat” her.

With a look of determination in his now red and strained face, and his leg in the air, beat my dog he did.

Pfffffffffffffftb! bbbtttbbbtthhh!  Bthhttbhhhthpphht SPLOOCH!

Yes, the last one was a splooch.  A sound that only happens when you let out a wet fart, possibly with a little shart mixed in.

“Dood, I think you might want to check your pants”.

“Spaz, I need your toilet. NOW!”

So I kept working away, but forgetting something important, something very important.  It was bugging me in the back of my head, and I couldn’t’ remember what it was, until I heard Eddies booming voice from upstairs telling me he’d just painted the back of my toilet.

Fuck.  I remember now.  I had a leaky flapper valve in the shitter and I hadn’t yet replaced it.  Instead, I’d turned the water off until I could do it later.

He only had one flush.

He needed at least five.

I ran upstairs, only to be confronted with the worst ass explosion I’d ever seen, all over the back of my toilet.  Two hour old poutine and burger, passed through the gut of a 350lb man, slopped all over the shitter.

Do you know how bad it was?

Twenty four full hours later, I had a visitor ask me why my house smelled like poo.

Great. Not only did I lose my title of poo king, but his ass gas is probably permanent.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go open all the windows and go buy a drum of fabreeze.

poo, rant farting competition, fast food, Harvey's, poo, shart, shit covered toilet, TMI