Holy Shit!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story about drinking, religion, and toilet humor.

Submitted: December 14, 2011

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Submitted: December 14, 2011

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Holy Shit
 
A Short Story 
 
By 
 
James Begert
 
A weekend of drinking never ends well.  Seven Prilosec later I had kicked the heartburn.  I felt one brewing-it was time for my Monday morning shit.  All that was left was the remnants of a weekend of beer, cheap whiskey and tacos.  It was time to pay the piper.  I went to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet.  Fuck! Out of toilet paper.  The only thing around that seemed usable was a washrag hanging over the side of the bathtub.  My asshole was puckering.  She was about to blow.  I had to secure something before I dropped the kids off at the pool.  Then I remembered the roll of paper towels in the kitchen.  I ran as fast as I could, pants already down around my ankles.  Secured the roll and ran back to the restroom.  Sat down quickly and commenced.  Two plops and a flush not to stink up the place.  What a gentleman I was.  Oh fuck!  The toilet wasn’t flushing.  God damn it!  Clogged it again. Time for a plunger work out.   It didn’t matter how small the shit was or the amount of tee pee I used, the toilet always clogged.  Cheap bastard!  Next pay, I was getting a new one.  A good one with a padded seat.  One that sucked your balls down when you flushed it.  
 
 All the next week I took my morning shit.  The toilet clogged every time.   Same old, same old. The fucker came with the house so it was time to upgrade.  If I had to guess it was at least 30 years old, who knew.  Luckily one of my jerk off friends was a plumber.  If anyone was a toilet historian, it had to be him.  I called him over.
 
“Holy shit, you got a fuckin dinosaur here”, he said.
 
“Can we take it on Antiques Roadshow?”
 
“Fuck no.  None of those rich fuckers would shit in this thing.  Not many antique toilet collectors.  We ripped these same cheap mother fuckers out of an old office building a few months ago.  I would say this thing is about 50 years old.”
 
“God damnit, it’s a classic then!  Don‘t flush worth a damn though.”
 
“You need a new toilet my friend.  I’ll tell ya what, give me $10 for a wax ring and I’ll bring you one. We got a bunch of them at the shop.  I‘ll be back in a half hour”.
 
“A used toilet?  Jesus Christ.  Ok I’ll take it.”
 
It’s pretty bad when you’re so poor you have to get a used shitter.  But fuck it, I was poor and needed something to shit in.  It was either Mike’s toilet or a bucket.  The plunging during every dump business was getting old. A friend in need was a friend indeed and luckily I had a friend who was in the shitter business.  I went to the ATM and took out 30 bucks.  Bought a 12 of Bud Lite and hung on to the ten for shitboy.
 
He returned a half hour later.
 
“OK, fucker give me the ten.”
 
“Hold up now.  Lets drink a few brews first.  I gotta feeling lifting that shitter is gonna make us thirsty. That is if you can drink on the clock.”
 
“I’m here helping your poor ass. Ain’t I?  Give me one of those brews.”
 
We started drinking.  After about 15 minutes the beer was gone.  We chugged that shit as usual.
 
“Ok fuck-o.  Let’s get the toilet off my truck.”
 
We went out to his truck.  There it was.  A brown toilet.  Holy fuck.  I would be shitting and pissing in a brown toilet.  
 
“Brown?  They didn’t have any white ones?”
 
“Listen fucker.  You’re getting a free, ok well, a ten dollar toilet. Oh yeah give me the ten.”
 
I reached in my pocket, pulled out the ten, crumpled it up and handed it to him.  
 
“Thanks fucker.  Let’s put it in, come on, hurry.  I have an appointment at 3.”
 
“I got the runs anyways.  I’m gonna have to test the baby out here pretty soon.”
 
We each took a side of the toilet and carried it inside and set it outside the bathroom door. He bent over on the floor with a crowbar and lifted the old one off, breaking the seal. 
 
“I guess what they say about plumber’s is true.  Nice crack man.”
 
“Fuck you. Only the fags look.  Turn your water off homo.”
 
I went down in the basement and turned the water off to the bathroom.  I ran back 
upstairs.  and  helped him move the old toilet out.  He put replaced the old wax seal with 
a new one and put on the brown toilet.
 
“Ok dickhead, turn the water back on.”
 
I ran back downstairs and heard the toilet flushing as I entered the restroom.
 
“Check out the suction on this baby. They don’t make them like this anymore.”
 
“Damn right, I heard that thing all the way in the other room.  A real shit sucker.  Thanks Mike!  At least my plunger will get a rest now.”
 
We high fived.  
 
“Ok dickhead, I gotta get back to work enjoy jerkin off and taking your shits today.”
 
“Fuck you man.”
 
“No, fuck you!”
 
Mike gave me the finger and left in his truck.  It was time to test out the new shitter.  I sat down, this time I made sure the paper towels were in reaching distance.  Oh nice, a nice solid log.  I bet that there wouldn’t even be anything to wipe.  It felt clean.  I flushed the toilet and it just sucked my balls down with the shit.
 
“Fantastic!  This is the best damned toilet I’ve ever had.  Hotel quality.  Five stars.  Good work Mike.”
 
I wiped my ass, reflushed and went and watched some television.  It was time to celebrate so I pulled out my stashed fifth of rum from under the couch and swigged some. 
 
After my nap I woke up and felt another shit brewing.  Holy fuck.  My stomach was fucked up today.  No heartburn though, just a bunch of shit.  Fucking Taco Bell.  Oh well, either way, it was time for another shit.  Yesterday was trash day and I threw all the magazines out.  So, as usual, I would just play the guitar while I was shitting.  It kept my mind off those huge turds coming out my ass.  I don’t know how some of those fuckers come out your asshole, but they do.  It’s like giving birth. 
 
I sat down on the new used pot with my guitar and started strumming the most beautiful chord I ever played.  Clear as a bell, like magic.  Then, so easily, as if my hands were possessed I switched chords.  Damn I felt like Johnny Cash.  All of the sudden, I started playing Ring Of Fire, perfectly!  Holy shit!  I never played it in my life.  Then I started rocking out some Soundgarden, Black Hole Son, perfect again.  Could it be?  Naw….I was a shitty guitar play.  Fuck it, I started jamming out some Creedence, fuckin A!  Played it all right on time and in key, perfect and my voice-when I sang it I sounded just like motherfuckin John Fogerty!  Oh fuck no, I was dreaming.  
 
I sat on the toilet, pants still around my ankles and no turd had yet fallen out my ass.  For a half hour, I played through most of the Beatles catalogue, I didn’t miss a fucking note.  Any my voice, holy shit, I sang just like John Lennon, perfectly!  This was insane.  It mad me wonder if maybe Beethoven didn’t write his symphonies on the shitter.  I remember they said that Elvis died taking a shit, so maybe that’s where he wrote all his tunes…who knew.   This was crazy.  
 
I put my axe down, pushed out the logs, wiped ass and decided to go down and get some more beer.  Fuck it, there wasn’t anything else to do.  Headed down the Circle K.  When checking out, I saw some scratch off lottery tickets behind the counter and bought five dollars worth and headed back home.  When I got home I watched television, but it was just the same bullshit shows as usual.  Oh fuck, I had to shit again.  What the fuck.  Fucking tacos.  Jesus Christ, what was in them things?  Maybe those fuckers put some Ex-lax in them.  I ran into the restroom and dropped my drawers.  I felt some squirts coming on and boy was I right.  I flushed as soon as the drops started.  Damn, this toilet flushed like a champ, even if it was brown.  My asshole was still burning, fucking hot sauce, damn you!  So I would be there for a few minutes.  Oh yeah, those damn instant tickets were in my pocket.  I pulled them out and began to scratch them off.  Triple 7s.  I always bought them but never had any luck.  
 
I started to scratch the first one.  
 
“Seven…”
“Seven…”
“Seven…”
“Holy fuckin shit!  $500!  Fuck yeah!”
 
I jumped off the toilet in celebration  and liquid shit ran down my left leg all the way to my ankle.  
 
“God damnit!”, I yelled.
 
I took my sock off, tossed it in the bathtub and wiped off my ankle with the paper towel, spread my legs and threw it in the toilet and flushed.
 
“Wow, this toilet.  What a beauty  Fills up nice and fast.  Perfect.”
 
I smiled.  I had just won enough money to buy beer for a month.  Fuck yeah.  I scratched off the second ticket.
 
“Seven…”
“Seven…”
“Oh fuck no…”
“Seven!”
“$500 fucking more dollars! What in the fuck is going on!”
 
I laughed and giggled like a little school girl.  Holy fuck. I even started getting hard.  This was amazing! Someone had to be playing a joke on me.  Son of a bitch.  I scratched off the next three, they all were triple sevens!  I won fucking $2500.  What in the fuck was going on?  This had to be an error the lottery made. To play it safe, I went around to five different gas station and cashed in each winner.  Sure enough, they were all good.  I called up Mike’s cell when I got back.
 
“Hey dickhead.  You will never guess what the hell happened to me.  That toilet.  Let me tell you something.  That is one lucky fucking toilet!  First, I picked up my guitar while I was taking a shit and fuckin A,  I played damn near every Beatles song perfectly and then I took another shit and won $2500 on scratch off tickets.”
 
“Are you fuckin jerkin me off?”
 
“Fuck no I ain’t. Mike, where the hell did you get that toilet at?” 
 
“Hahaha.  You won’t believe this.  We got it out of St. Mark’s on 16th Street.”
 
“Holy fuckin shit, Hahahaha. “
 
“Tell me about it.  You’re pulling my chain, right?”
 
“No dude, straight up.  I bought 5 lucky 7 tickets, all hit for five hundred when I was taking a dump.”
 
“You lucky motherfucker.  You owe me steak dinner and some brews.”
 
“You got it pal.  See you later.  Hey get some bud too, it’s on me.”
 
I couldn’t believe this shit.  Unreal.  It had to be the toilet.  No fucking way.  I went out to the bar to celebrate.  Mike was work, so fuck it, I was gonna tie one on for him.  I got a nice buzz and headed home.  Oh shit-there it was-St. Mark’s.  I decided to stop by just for the hell of it.  I was curious and drunk.  I needed to find out more about that toilet.  I knocked on the door, and an old preacher opened the door.
 
“Hello Father.”
 
“Welcome my son, all are welcomed at St. Mark’s.  Please come in.”
 
“Well Father, uhhhh, I’m not much of a church going type..  Can we just talk right here for a minute?”
 
“Of course my lad”.
 
Wow, he sounded like a potato eater, right off the boat.  Definitely an import.
 
“Ok, father.  This will sound strange, but…”
 
“It’s okay my son.  I have heard just about everything.”
 
“My friend, he brought me a toilet…”
 
“A toilet?”
 
“Yes, he brought me a toilet, my old one had broke.  He said he got it from here.  He’s a plumber.”
 
“Ah yes, well we did recently have a bathroom renovation. “
 
“Did the toilet happen to be brown?”
 
“Ahhh, yes it was.  She was a big brown beast.”
 
“Yep, that’s the one.  It sucks your ba….uhhh yeah that’s the one.”
 
“Yes what about it, my son?”
 
“Umm, I was just wondering do you guys bless the toilets?  You know do the toilets use holy water?  Uhh, sorry I’m not too familiar with this church stuff…”
 
What a dickhead I was.  Showing up a church harassing an old priest about my new toilet.  Jesus, what a jerk off.
 
“Well technically, my son, all water is holy in the church.  After all this is consecrated ground.”
 
The priest started to laugh, and then he laughed some more.
 
“What’s so funny father?”
 
“Oh nothing my son.”
 
He laughed again.
 
“No what Father?  Tell me please.”
 
“My son.  The water that ran through that toilet was indeed holy water, but our Holy Father also blessed the toilet, if you know what I mean.”
 
“You mean the Pope?”
 
“Yes my son.  He visited us a while back.”
 
“Oh yeah! I heard about that.  Forgive me Father, but did he…did he use the toilet?”
 
There was a long pause-the longest 10 seconds ever.
 
“Yes my son, yes he did use it.”
 
“Holy shit.  Amazing.  The pope shit in my toilet.”
 
“We are not sure what he did.  But he was in the restroom for quite a while.  Most probably it was a number 2.”
 
“Amazing!”
 
“Why do you ask all of this, my son?”
 
“Father.  Listen.  I was taking a shit…I mean I was going number 2.  I had my guitar and started playing the most beautiful chords you ever heard.  It sounded heavenly, clear as a bell.  Then I started playing songs I had heard but never bothered to learn….all perfectly.  And then I bought some lottery tickets and scratched them off.  They all hit for $500 each.”
 
The father grabbed his beard and questioned me with a puzzled look on his face.
 
“All while on the pot, eh?”
 
I burped and pulled out the wad of cash.
 
“Amazing son, it’s a miracle! Praise Jesus! Praaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaise Jesus!”, he said as he waved his hands in the air.
 
“That what was I was thinking Father.” I said as I laughed.
 
I broke the old priest off a couple of hundred.
 
“Here take this.  A tiding to the church.”
 
“Oh thank you.  Thank you my son.  God bless you.”
 
“But Father, I must ask.  If the Pope did go in the toilet…could possibly it be blessed?”
 
“Anything is possible my son  God works in mysterious ways. It‘s a miracle!”
 
“Amen father!”
 
“Amen, my son.”  
 
“Thank you so much Father.”
 
We shook hands.
 
“Father…please…can we keep this between us.”
 
“Between you, me, and the Lord.  Not that anyone would believe us anyways.”
 
On the way home I stopped by my favorite magazine stand and picked up The Wall Street Journal.  I went right to the toilet.  I squeezed out two fatties and circled a couple of stocks at random.  Called up a local stock broker and told him I wanted to invest $2000 in some stock and he told me to come right down.  Went down, filled out the paper work and threw it all on the two stocks.  He called me the next morning.
 
“How did you know?”
 
“What!?  What!?”
 
“IBM just bought the one company and the other was just bought out by Merck.  Son, you’re a millionaire.  I’ve never seen this in my life.”
 
“Holy shit!” I yelled.  
 
And the rest is history.
 
The power of the toilet still remains a secret.  Mike now lives in the Bahamas on his personal island with 15 teenage bikini models.  Basically he got half of everything, the bastard.  Oh well.  He’s happy and keeping quiet-not that anyone would believe him.  The old preacher died a few days later after I first visited him.  People said he went around yelling and rambling about a magic toilet and died of a heart attack not long after.  They all thought he was delirious and no one believed him.  Poor old man.  I did send a few million shortly after to pay for his funeral and St. Marks was renovated.  
 
I ended up making a few billion with the toilet and destroyed it.  Threw the pieces in the Mariana Trench.  It was too much power for one man. It even  started tempting me.  You start to get some crazy ideas when you are pushing out some foot longs.  After one snake I laid I started to think about world domination and knew it had to be destroyed.  Don’t get me wrong,-I love all the money-but I miss the way that baby flushed and filled.  The way it sucked my balls down and never clogged.  Best damned toilet I ever had, even though it was brown. Oh, and being the next Jimi Hendrix would have been pretty cool too.
©James Begert 2011
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


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