Just Your Luck

Just Your Luck

© Oct. 6th/09





         And so, there you were, just closed the door to your bathroom turned the vent on and lowered the toilet seat. You pulled your pants down, underwear and sat your bare butt on the cold seat. A few moments into the number two deed you began to ponder around, the bathtub had a dirty ring around it, mental note, need to clean that some time, running low on toilet paper too and when was the last time you washed the towel on the rack…

         You either heard a large bang, something fell over from downstairs or someone knocked something over. Just your luck, who robs a house when you’re on the pooper? You were far from finished your business here in the lavatory and couldn’t interrupt what you were doing to get up and snoop around. You just hope that what or whoever it is, just takes some non-important stuff and leaves, or whatever it was that just fell over, won’t cause a fire, right now wouldn’t be the best timing.

         Being cautious, you immediately sniff the air for smoke, that sure wasn’t smoke you just inhaled, but your own brand of feces perfuming the air. You shook your head from side to side rather quickly hoping to waft away the stench before you passed out from the overpowering scent slowly creeping its way out of the toilet and into the air, only to eventually be swept away by the ventilation system. Still curious about what you heard, you proceeded to lean over towards the door some more and listen for footsteps. You heard a noise, oh wait, that was just a log landing into the toilet bowl water, false alarm. Then the sound that you definitely did not want to hear, whispering voices, that was it, someone had broken into your home.

         “You go upstairs and make sure no one is here, if so, take care of them.” You heard that as clear as a bell, you weren’t in the position to get up and hide, your diarrhea was on full tilt at this point. You waited for the same point, you quickly got up, wobbled over to the door since your pants were down by your ankles, you opened the door, turned the light and vent off so it looked like no one was in there and then you hobbled back on top of the toilet to continue on your mission.

         You could hear the voices more clearly now, sounded like three of them total. And one voice was getting louder and footsteps coming up the stairs, this wasn’t the time to unload, so you clenched you butt tight and held the feces in as best you could, no noises were aloud. The pain of holding it in was becoming almost too much to bear as the footsteps came closer to the bathroom door. You began to sweat, the footsteps stopped at the bathroom door and all you heard was, “Oh my lord, that fucking reeks, who are these people?”

         On the verge of losing your load, you couldn’t take the pain anymore, you released, causing a huge fart followed by lots of diarrhea splashing into the water and you moaned with relief.

         “What the?” From the voice outside as he knocked the door wide open to get a full whiff of your intoxicating methane gas lingering about since the vent was no longer on. “Holy hell what died in you?” He was holding a knife and was a lot bigger than you, of course though, the hand not holding the weapon was trying it’s best to cover his nose so he couldn’t smell the stench you left behind… it wasn’t working, in fact, you too were affected by the aroma of your feces sitting in the toilet.

         ‘Yo Joe, what’s going on up there man?” Another voice yelled from downstairs “We ain’t got all day ya’know.”

         Joe, as you assumed by the other voice calling him that from down below took another disgusted look at you, held the knife out, pointing the blade in your direction and muttered while covering his nose with the free hand “I’m going to stick you good.” He began his charge attack.

         You, having to think in the nick of time desperately reached around for something to use to protect yourself, you felt the soft, Downy soft, sensation of your bathroom towels, probably not a good defensive weapon for the moment, you continued on, a smooth silky touch, aww the bar of soap, although this creep could use a good clean scrubbing, now wasn’t the time. You then felt the rough long handle of something, since he was about arms reach, you took a tight grip and swung it around in front of you, it was the plunger from behind the toilet, hey, better than nothing, you jumped to your feet, keeping your balance since your pants were still down and you took a baseball swing with the plunger and made a connecting blow as he was about to stab you with the bladed object.

         While the culprit was dazed, you took the opportunity to swing once more, need to make sure he’s knocked out cold so you don’t need to worry about him for the duration of the break in. You took a hefty swing, putting all of your might into it, the toilet unplugger hit and rendered the victim unconscious for the time being. As his body landed on the cold tile floor, another man, slightly taller than Joe came into view at the door entrance wearing the same style of black clothes and wielding a semi-automatic pistol. “Joe? What did you do?” He saw you holding onto the plunger and he looked extremely agitated “Oh, you’re going to pay.” He began to raise the pistol towards your general direction.

         You knew at this point there was nothing around that could stop a bullet from hitting you, but the adrenaline was pumping throughout your body and you didn’t really want to get shot, another desperate move, you instinctively dunked the plunger into the diarrhea invested toilet bowl, pulled it right out and flung the remains on the plunger towards the man holding the pistol, brown dirty water along with little chunks of poop flew through the air and landed on the face of your intended target, his mouth was open when the chunks of flying poop made contact and entered his mouth, landing right on the taste buds of his tongue.

         The man immediately began to choke from the sheer disgusting taste of someone’s feces landing inside of his mouth, causing him to drop the pistol, bent right over and began to dry-heave, trying to vomit out the taste that filled his flavor buds. Now was the perfect time to do something before he came to reality and the taste had left his mouth. You dipped the plunger in that gross toilet bowl water once more, just for kicks and made a waddling dash as fast as someone could that still had their pants down and made a golf club swing, using that shit covered plunger and made a connecting blow to the face of the puking victim, he fell backwards landing on his ass with his face covered with runny crap, spitting, coughing and trying to uncover his eyes with his hands. You then thrust the plunger directly into the man’s face, sticking the suction cup part over his mouth and pressed it forward, pushing that revolting fragrance more inside, filling his lungs with it. The man passed out within minutes of this exposure.

         Just then, as things were finally looking good, another voice from downstairs yelled up “What are you two doing up there huh? Just grab some jewelry and let’s bail, they could be home any minute.” The voice to you seemed quite familiar, like you knew who it was but couldn’t quite place the tone to the face, well, not just yet anyways. You then heard footsteps at the bottom of the stairs and then that familiar voice spoke once more “Guys? Something wrong?” Quickly thinking to yourself; who was this guy and if you knew him, why would he want to steal from you, not like you had really incredible things, you have some nice stuff, but there are richer folks in this neighborhood.

         This was finally a great time to finally pull those ankle-bearing pants back up so you could move with more ease, but first you should wipe, don’t want to give that silky underwear brown stains do we. After that was done, you pulled the pants up and went to flush, wait a tick, this could be a good distraction for later. You pulled the unconscious Joe’s pants down and lifted him onto the toilet seat, so he was sitting down on it; you then dragged the other unconscious body into the tub and close the shower curtain so he couldn’t be seen. You then quietly tip toed to your bedroom and picked up the phone and dialed 911.

         “911, can you please state your emergency?”

         You whispered ever so quietly “yeah, I like to report a burglary taking place pronto.” As you hid out of sight while on the phone, the last person down stairs made his way up to the top floor, the one you and everyone  else was on, he must have smelled the odor in the air, assuming from his comment “Aw man what the fuck is that smell?” You then heard him approach the bathroom as he then remarked, “Dude, do you got to shit that bad, you need to do it in the house we’re robbing?”

         Meanwhile you whispered your address and held the phone out so the operator could hear the voice, you then added “And please hurry, I’m all alone and there are three of them.” You hung up and made a stealthy approach back towards the bathroom just in time to hear the awake robber comment “At least turn the vent on Joe, say where’s Jack at?” You peeked around to see the man in question; it was Stan a fellow coworker at your job. You were extremely pissed now, you worked alongside this guy for years, been over at his home for thanksgiving dinner, you got him the job where you are now, covered his ass several times so he’d keep that job and now, after everything you’ve done for him, this is how he’s paying you back, well not the thanks you were looking for.

         Stan tapped Joe on the shoulder while asking, “Hey man, did you pass out from your own odor?” He chuckled as he accidentally pushed Joe off of the toilet, causing him to fall into the shower curtain, ripping it from the clips holding it up and revealing the unconscious body of Jack lying in the tub. Stan took a step back from the surprise view that just unfolded before him, now was a good time to strike; he was defiantly not expecting an attack from behind just yet. You charged forth, grabbed the back of his head and forced him down towards the toilet. You overpowered him and were able to get his head into the toilet bowl and dunk it into the lingering shit invested water resting inside.

         His arms flailed about, trying to gasp for air and pry himself away from the nauseating water that was entering his stomach and lungs by now. You grabbed a hold of your trusty weapon, released your grip on Stan’s hair so he wouldn’t drown and took a baseball batter stance, allowing Stan to regain his footing and see you face to face.

         After coughing for several second and wiping the shit off of his face he looked right into your blood-raged eyes, “Oh sorry, I didn’t know anyone was home, we meant no harm.”

         “No harm, that’s why one tried to knife me while the other pointed a gun at me!” The relieving sounds of sirens soon filled the background noise. “Why are you trying to rob me? After all I’ve done for you?”

         “I figured it would be easy, I don’t know, these guys pressured me into it, I made some big dumb bets and now I’m neck deep in some serious debts. I know you have some great stuff that would sell…” That was when you lost your temper and swung the plunger and made a clean hit and knocked Stan right off of his feet. Not even minutes later, the police forced themselves in, rushed all around and made it up the stairs. You were still standing there, arms at your sides, once the cops showed up you dropped the plunger and began a longer stressful explanation on what took place, not before each officer arriving to the scene asked, “What is that intoxicating smell, can someone please do something about that?” One of the officers brave enough to enter the bathroom walked over to the toilet and gave it a flush, and then a courteously one right after while another cop opened a few windows.

         The cop in front of you pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, “Ok, let’s hear it from the top.”

         You proceeded to explain your side of the story…





THE END