I started to panic. If I dumped my great big lump of poo into the toilet I was sitting on, it would almost certainly block it up. Then the awful woman outside would come in and see what I had done. It was just too embarrassing to think about!
So I said I was nearly done, and I dropped the messy toilet paper into the bowl. My bottom was far from clean, but it didn’t really matter anyway. I very reluctantly pulled my panties back up my legs, being careful not to make brown streaks as I went, and I shuddered as I felt the great big mound of poo once again contact my bottom and other ‘downstairs’ parts. I flushed the toilet, opened the cubicle door, and hurried out past the woman – a very tall middle-aged woman she was – and then I dashed out of McDonalds as fast as I could safely waddle.
I was a nervous wreck by this time, as I am sure you can imagine. I didn’t know what on Earth I was going to do. I’d squandered my best chance of emptying my panties. Now I was back out on High Street, and people were immediately starting to notice the smell. I turned and headed down the street, desperately looking right and left for inspiration.
I turned on to Market Place, and there I finally got a lucky break. Right across from me was the local cinema. I wasn’t sure if they would be open this early, but it was worth a try – I knew they had toilets. Ignoring the laughter of a couple of teenaged girls that I passed, I hurried to the cinema entrance and went inside. The door was open, fortunately, but I then realized that the toilets were on the other side of the ticket barrier – if I was to use them, I would have to buy a ticket.
Now you may think I should have paid for a ticket just to get to the toilet, but I’m a value-conscious person and I felt that if I was going to pay for a ticket, I might as well see a movie. So I looked at the listings and noticed that Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was (finally!) playing here. I had been looking forward to this for weeks, ever since it was released in this country. Doug wasn’t interested – he hates Jim Carrey with a passion – so I figured this was as good a time as any to see it on my own.
It didn’t start for ten minutes, which I thought was perfect – enough time for me to empty my panties, clean myself up, and still get to the movie before it started. I showed my ticket at the barrier, hurried through before the ticket guy had time to smell anything, and went straight to the toilet.
There was a man in there. Honestly! As if enough hadn’t gone wrong already. He was mopping the floor, and when I came in he apologised and said he would just be a few minutes. I told him my film was about to start, and he apologised again and said he would hurry. And he did hurry, I guess, but by the time he finished and left, I had only two minutes until the film started. I dithered about whether to attempt a two-minute clean-up, but at that point two young girls entered and made my mind up for me. I left and went straight to the screen where my movie was showing.
There was nobody else in there, which was a relief. In case someone else came in, however, I picked what I thought would be the least likely place for anyone to want to sit … right at the back and way off to the far side. I tucked my skirt beneath me and sat down carefully. The poo squished disgustingly and moulded itself to me.
It occurred to me as I was watching the fifth or sixth advert that I actually would have had time to clean up during all the ads and trailers – it was another ten minutes at least before the film started. But by that time, it didn’t seem to matter much whether I cleaned up before or after the film – I was still alone in there, and the smell wasn’t too bad by that point. Sitting in it also didn’t feel all that bad, strangely. Well it was soft, and warm, and only slightly sticky by that point. I know, I know, it sounds gross, but remember I’d had all this mess in my panties for more than seven hours – I guess I was just getting desensitized or something.
Before the film started, a few other people actually did come in, but fortunately they sat far enough away not to smell anything. At least I hope they didn’t smell anything. Nobody commented anyway.
The film was brilliant – Dad, you have to see it. Carrey was very restrained, and I’ve always been a big fan of Kate Winslet – she was as good here as always. I was completely enthralled, and after only a few minutes I had completely forgotten that I was sitting in a pile of poo.
I stayed until the end of the credits, by which time everyone else had left. Then I stayed a few extra minutes, to allow time for the people who had left to visit the toilets. I got up and made my way to the toilet, but unfortunately it was busy – there was even a queue, and I was in no condition to wait in a queue.
I was in a hurry to get home now, just so that I could get some sleep. It was two o’clock, after all, and I was supposed to be at the office again by midnight. I usually sleep between eight-thirty in the morning and about four o’clock in the afternoon, so that I get some time with Doug in the evening – of course that was now impossible. But if I was to get a decent sleep, I would have to get to bed by three o’clock at the latest. And I hadn’t eaten anything for more than twelve hours – I was starving!
I returned to Theatre Street, jeers and laughter following me all the way, and then I walked up and down until I spotted a bus. I ran to the bus stop, my poo bouncing around against my bottom as I went, and waved frantically. The bus stopped, I boarded and bought a ticket, and fortunately the driver did not smell anything. There weren’t many people on board, but there were enough that I couldn’t sit more than three or four feet away from any of them. I took a window seat and hoped nobody would smell me.
A couple of people sniffed the air and made annoyed comments, but I don’t think they knew it was me. Until we got to my stop, that is. When I got up and walked down the bus to the front, I distinctly heard an old man behind me say, “Look! It’s her!”
In great relief I got off the bus and walked home, managing to avoid any unpleasant encounters on the way. Once I was safely inside, suddenly I saw the funny side of everything that had happened, and I laughed (somewhat hysterically, I think) for a few moments. I called Doug and described everything that had happened. He was upset about the car, but he then listened (with growing amazement, as he told me later) as I related all my failed attempts to empty my panties. Eventually he burst out laughing and told me he wanted to see for himself.