Monday, September 23, 2013

Do You Have Your Fear Pants On? It's Almost Time for....FRIGHTENING FRIDAYS

This picture made me poop at least five times.
















 Hey, poop heads and poop faces. What's going on with you? I'm not doing anything over here, except getting ready to scare even more poop out of you than before.

In case you're wondering, I am trying to use the word "poop" at least 15 times in this post announcing this year's Frightening Fridays. So, brace yourselves for more poop, literal and figurative. You might want to brace yourself literally with an outhouse that latches securely and figuratively with some fortitude and Halloween candy. Things are about to get poopin' scary.

This year, in addition to our weekly terrifying tale posted each Friday on this site, I'd like to invite you to join me while I read one super spooky story each week via my YouTube channel. There will be SCARY VOICES. There will be DARKNESS. There will be CONVINCINGLY LIFELIKE BAT NOISES. Lots of good poop like that. So, don't miss it, you poop butt.

Poop.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

A Revised Account of the Time I Saw the Biggest Piece of Shit Ever

It's trying to escape.












Last September, around this time, I went camping. Then, I came back and wrote this story. Unfortunately, the story involves my ex-boyfriend. Therefore, I decided the story needs a few edits before I repost it. Let's do this thing.


My Revised Account of the Time I Saw the Biggest Piece of Shit Ever

In this world, there is so much darkness.

You see this darkness in the bottom of the refrigerator drawer where you keep your vegetables after you haven't opened it for a few months. It's a brown ooze that maybe used to be a cucumber. You look away, quickly slam the drawer, and go back to drinking heavily. It's a reminder of how fragile life is. And cucumbers.

I saw the darkness very recently. I was on a camping trip in New Hampshire, and I had an experience that left me changed. I saw...something.

The moon was full. The air was filled with the sounds of the night: owls hooting, crickets chirping, an elderly couple arguing over which one of them misplaced the bug spray. The air smelled of campfires and that overwhelming stink of hotdogs you get when you open up your cooler after a long day. As we pulled up to the campground bathhouse and I grabbed my toothbrush, I sensed that this wasn't any kind of normal night. "Do you feel that?" I asked my boyfriend, Daniel Craig. "Feel what?" he responded. "The darkness," I replied, ominously. Then, he looked at me in that way that I knew meant he was going to hide the rest of my beers when we got back to our tent. I feel like this is as good a place as any to mention that Daniel Craig was a super amazing boyfriend who loved to talk and listen and cook Mexican food.

The women's bathroom was empty, but I felt strange, like I wasn't quite alone. "Hello?" I said. I've seen a lot of scary movies, and people always do that when they feel they aren't quite alone. As expected, no one responded. I brushed my teeth and took out my contacts. Then, I walked over to the bathroom stall.

I opened the stall door. I looked. I closed the stall door again.

I paused.

What had I just seen?

I opened the stall door again. I looked.

It was real.

Inside the toilet was the most enormous piece of shit I've ever seen.

Now, you're all thinking right now, "Sure, sure, Bethany. We've all laid monsters in our day. The day after pot luck chili night, whoa boy!" And I'm here to tell you that no...you've never seen a piece of shit this big. Not after pot luck chili night. Not ever.

It was about 10 inches in length and the width of a can of Coke. The person who had pooped it had clearly not bothered to flush because there was no way that would ever go down the toilet. Ever.

I ran out of the bathroom.

"DANIEL CRAIG, OH MY GOD," I said, panting as I ran the eight feet to the men's restroom to find my very handsome and manly British boyfriend.

"What?" he said.

"There's a piece of shit in the women's bathroom that is so big, I think the person who pooped it died."

"Uh huh," he responded. I could tell he didn't believe me.

"Dude, go in there and look."

"I am NOT going to go look at a piece of shit," he replied.

"Fine," I said. "But you will be missing out on the most horrifying thing I've ever seen."

We began walking back to the car. He stopped.

"I want to see it," he said, handsomely.

"Go," I told him. "It's in the last stall."

"Is there anyone in there?"

"No." 

"I can't believe I'm going to go look at a piece of shit," he said, a very undignified thing for a normal person to say, but a thing that sounded sexy when Daniel Craig said it.

He disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the stall door open and close. He came back outside.

"Holy fucking shit," he said.

"I know."

"I looked in there, and all I saw was blackness."

"No one will ever believe this," I said.

As we drove back to our campsite, I could only try to imagine the kind of person, the kind of woman, who could poop out a piece of shit that big. In my mind, she was 6'5", 255 pounds. A drifter with a crazy, faraway look in her eyes and amazing digestion. She was the kind of woman who didn't even camp with a tent, just slept under a big tarp, a box of Fiber One bars tucked against her bosom. After her massive dump that night, she wandered off into the woods to contemplate the universe and died, sitting alone on a tree stump, from complications of a bleeding rectum. And like Johnny Appleseed before her, one day the locals would tell stories of her greatness. Stories of a mysterious woman who once took a shit so big it killed her.

And here's this.