Asstastic

Oh. My. God. It looks like a baby’s leg. Christ, maybe even a toddler’s. I don’t know if my ass will ever be the same. It’s drafty down there. I wonder if there’s going to be stretch marks. What if it never puckers back up? Oh man, I’d be screwed then. Me and my gaping butt hole… Like I don’t get enough fat girl jokes as it is.

Damn that’s huge. There’s no way this one’s going down the pipes. Fuck. Of all places to release a morbidly obese chocolate prisoner: the only bathroom at the party. God damn it. I’ve got to find something to break this up with. Anything. Nothing under the sick… Nada in the medicine cabinet… No way I’m using my hands on this one. Seriously? There’s nothing here I can use to bust this guy up. You’ve got to be kidding me! What about back – no way in hell! No fucking way! Great. Not only am I the fat girl who recycled Taco Bell with a vengeance at a packed house, I’m the fat girl who didn’t check to see if there was TP before she started. There isn’t any if you’re wondering. This is just amazing. When it rains it shit storms. Not only do I have to leave Brown October here, I can’t even wipe my own ass. And that’s just what I need here, to spend the night smelling like Septic Tank Susan. What if is just run for it? Leave the loaf and head for the hills?

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Just a sec!”

There goes that idea. Think! Think! Think! Shit! OK, let’s get this lid off. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Lid off – check. Hand towel from the sink – check. Soap ready for cleanup – check. Nomini Patri, Fili e Spiritu Sancti. Amen. Step one: Use hand towel to wipe ass – mission accomplished. Step two: Take the hand towel and wrap up my organic depth charge (ass-wiped side inwards of course). Done. Step three: Move said dungleberry to the tank, thus upper decking the place after the fact. Finished. Step four: Use soap to erase evidence from hands so I’m not caught brown handed. Why am I making jokes at this point? OK, clean. I’m going to walk out of here like my shit don’t stink (pun intended, but sadly it stinks like month old eggs dipped in turpentine in here). All right, here we go.

“All yours.”

“Bout time – Jesus balls! It reeks in here, Double Wide!”

“Savor the flavor, Ass Monger.”

Nice! Now make it to the door – fast! Almost there… Almost there…

“Hey everyone! Listen up! Biggie Smalls here took a nasty shit just now. It smells like Fecal Armageddon in here.”

Fuck!

“So what, you’ve never shit?”

“Oh, I have. But I never wiped my big fat ass with the hand towel and then left on the sink. What the hell is wrong with you, Shit Towel? You actually shit your brains out?”

And there it was. My new nickname till the end of high school. Shit Towel. My only consolation is that I alone know that I made Arnold Drummond sleep with the fishes back there. That’s the gift that keeps on giving. Shit Towel 1 – High School Dueshe Bags 0.