Pinball.
"I bet you won't"
"Really? I bet I will!"

*****************************

Two friends and I were in the woods as usual, shooting bunnies for the local farmer. It was a cold winter's day, we were togged up far too warm, and our stomachs turned against us (as can happen in that Hot-inside / cold-outside kind of way.)

The other two had already relieved themselves, reporting dangerous bowel-escape velocity... and I was furiously waddling on the spot - buttocks clenched - trying to pretend that my arse wasn't about to explode.

Where to crap? Our eyes rose skywards.

In our woods there were various funky trees, but one was known as "the climbing tree". This name was well-earned as it had regular and sturdy branches that any 11 year-old can climb with his/her eyes closed. One side of the trunk was bare, giving a fantastic view from a great height.

"I bet you won't climb that and poo from the top"

5 minutes later, trousers round my ankles and a good 40-something feet off the ground, I was ready to let the pressure go... My mates had retired to a "safe distance" and by Christ I let rip.

The quiet winter's morning was shattered with a sound of tearing sail-cloth mixed with a baked-bean splatter-noise. Birds flew up in alarm as bowels were viloently evacuated. After the final sputtering squits were squeeezed out, my friends and I were in fits of giggles - leaving me fighting for balance. The overwhelming sense of rectal relief was marred only by 2 things:

I had negated to take any bog-roll with me.. and as I stood on the branch below begrudgingly hoiking my trollies up, I realised that my footing was worryingly slippery.. and then the final point dawned: my climb down was now dripping in steamy semi-liquid shit.
40 feet of crap-encrusted branches.

I had painted myself into the corner in the worst way imaginable.

Half way down the climb amid shrieks of laughter from my companions - tears of frustration streaming down my face - (And shit dripping on my head from the branches above), I finally slipped; tumbling from branch to branch like a sodden shit-drenched pinball.

The walk home was thankfully short, with no encounters.

I still salute my father who greeted me in the garden. He'd seen me - bloody-lipped with a limp making my way across the lawn - and worried, he ran out. The look on his face asked it all, but he kept his lip buttoned.

"I had an accident dad"

He gave me a look that any father would give his shit-encrusted air-rifle-toting 13 year-old and went into the house, emerging 2 seconds later with a bucket or warm soapy water and a massive'n fluffy Dad-sized dressing gown.

"C'mon.. lets get you cleaned up... *sponge - dab - sponge*.... So, did you get any Rabbits?"

***************************************

I hope that when I'm a dad, I too know when *not* to ask the questions that I *really* want to ask.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Tue 26 Jan 2010, 9:21, 6 replies)

Oh god
*uberclick*
( Bob Todd whee, Tue 26 Jan 2010, 9:44, closed)

Ahh once I got about half way through I knew t had to be from you ;) *clicky*
( Rhubarb_Triangle, Tue 26 Jan 2010, 10:02, closed)

huge click
that had me stifling mirth :-)

i meant to reply to the original post, doh
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Tue 26 Jan 2010, 12:08, closed)

What a dad!
Click in part for having an awesome Dad.
(mad-mother, Tue 26 Jan 2010, 12:43, closed)

Hill Air re Mouse,
I can just picture your face upon realising your fate.
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Tue 26 Jan 2010, 13:13, closed)

click-sticks
the laughter in me started at the idea of climbing the tree, and erupted at "steamy semi-liquid shit"
(FUXTIX Not my words, Carol, Tue 26 Jan 2010, 13:15, closed)