I recently went out on a date (a first date) and told poop stories the entire time. I thought it was a pretty successful date.
Anyway. One of my favorites is the story of what I call the Little Shit Monster.
Years ago, in another life, I guided backpacking trips for Boston University. Fun times. Except I’m not terribly good with kids. And I know that now.
So my co-leader, Henry, and I got this group of, like, twelve year olds. We were on a canoe trip in New Hampshire. For most of these kids it was their first boys and girls camping trip and they were all just about to hit puberty (or maybe they had, I have no idea) so- they were very aware of trying to impress each other.
Fun fact about backpacking: most of your food is rehydrated so your shits are pretty watery. And you have to go out in the woods, dig a hole, and poop in the hole. We call it poop soup. I gave this little bathroom orientation before each trip, no matter the age of those travleing with me. I also laid down some nuggets of knowledge such as don’t wipe with leaves and if you pack it in, you have to pack it out (yes, I am talking about toilet paper).
So it’s a couple days in and it’s late at night. Henry and I are sitting around and winding down. Then we hear it. It sounded like… well someone grossing themselves out in a way that should never happen. Ever.
Some little boy had gone to go potty. And the little genius had his hoodie sweatshirt tied around his waist. And somehow didn’t notice the weight of a gallon of liquid shit filling up the hood…
So he put his sweatshirt back on.
The Little Shit Monster came running out of the woods like something out of a horror movie, crying, wailing because he had coated himself from head to toe in his own feces and the girls and other boys had seen him. Henry backed away and the Little Shit Monster was looking to me for consolation, I think he wanted a hug. He wanted to be soothed, like a little child. I didn’t know what to do- I hadn’t brought a bucket or hose and there just isn’t enough soap in the world for some things. Plus wiping someone else’s ass for them is far beyond my pay grade.
I tossed him in the river, threw him a line, and towed him back to base camp. I wouldn’t even let him in the boat. Because I’m a lady, god damn it. And he was a Little Shit Monster.
And that’s the story I told on a first date over dinner. One of them. Because I am awesome.
Oh, the date? Yeah that didn’t work out. *shrugs*