Holy Shit!

I went to church all the time when I was growing up. My mother was a pastor, so my sisters and I didn’t have a choice, and when there were church retreats or missions trips, we were forced to attend. During the summer of my sophomore year, our church decided to spread the Gospel and help children in poverty in Washington D.C. Not much of a missions trip, since we lived in Northern Virginia and we were about 40 minutes away, but this time we didn’t have the funds to travel abroad.

I remember meeting up with another church in the evening and eating at a Korean restaurant in Alexandria, before we said our goodbyes to our families. We were only going to be gone for a week and Alexandria is basically in D.C. Verily, I say to you that our mothers could easily bring us lunch everyday if they wanted to.

We made it to our impoverished building in about 25 minutes, and the boys stayed downstairs and the girls upstairs. Us boys rolled out our sleeping bags on our beds, the floor. You know, it’s what humble Christians do.

We met the children the next morning and basically hung out with them while mentioning God every now and then. Honestly, it’s difficult to remember because one night and morning overshadowed all other memories.

So, you know how people gulp air to make themselves burp? I can do that with my asshole. Yes, that’s right, I can suck in air from my butthole and fart, but I can only do it in certain positions. Sometimes when I would do sit ups, my butthole would open unintentionally and air would flow in like water flowing down a drain. If I wanted to be intentional, my main position was like a girl during missionary style. It gives maximum air suckage.

Like all teens, I wanted to be liked and make people laugh. I told my fellow Christians about my ability to fart on command, and I gave them a performance. I would get into position and gather fresh air into my arse, then do handstands, cause why not, and fart. This was at night when we were supposed to be sleeping. The audience went wild, but they couldn’t unleash their laughter, since some people were sleeping. They asked for encore after encore, and I gave them what they wanted. Let’s be honest, I wanted it more. I must’ve done it about over 20 times, and it still was hilarious, which goes to show how immature we all were. Then I went to do it again, but that time, my butthole felt different. I ignored the feeling and kept performing as any performer would do. Finally after a few more farts, I landed and my big toe squished something. I sat down and became quiet. I took some time to think. It was embarrassing, and I didn’t know what to do, but I told my audience that the performance was over cause I thought I just stepped in my poop. It was too dark to see, but I knew.

It was stuck to my toe, and I started making my way to the bathroom which was upstairs down a couple narrow hallways. When I got near the light in the upstairs hallway, I could clearly see a small turd, smaller than a golf ball, morphed on my big toe. In the bathroom, I flushed the turd down the toilet and washed my foot in the tub, then went downstairs to sleep. I was ready to forget whatever just happened.

Yelling woke me up from my sleep. I looked and I saw my pastor screaming at me. He told me if I really thought he was sleeping through the nonsense that happened last night. Yes, that’s right, he was sleeping in the same room. He told me to get the cleaning supplies and start scrubbing where I pooped on the carpet. I told him that I couldn’t remember because it was dark, so he made me scrub everything around where I slept. After that, he interrogated all the boys to find out who stayed up for the performance. It was narrowed down to, obviously me, then my best friend, and some guy from the other church. Although, the audience was much greater. He made us do wall sits and planks for what seemed like an eternity while he was yelling at us like a drill sergeant. Then, I think he started feeling bad and he let the guy from the other church off the hook. Then my best friend started crying when we were doing wall sits and let him off too. Now, I was doing wall sits in my boxers alone. After a few more minutes, it was done.

I was a bit terrified, and for the rest of the trip my pastor was pissed at me and I felt weird. But as I grew up, it became a legendary story that I got to tell to family, friends, and strangers. Every time I hangout with Timmy, we remember when I pooped and he cried. Now, I thank God that I shit that night.