My parents and I were in Cape Cod one summer, I was about 8 years old. They always tried to impress upon me the idea of being an able bodied, capable human being, and not a baby, even at a young age. So, when I told them that I was incubating a shit-demon of epic proportions that was getting ready to unleash its fury on the general populace, they thought it would be a great time to put this into motion, and told me to go into the nearest building, which was a church, and handle it like a big boy. By the time I got there, I was doing one of those little butt-clenching shuffly walks, just as a precaution in the event that too wide a stride would be met insurmountable gravitational pull, ripping the death-storm down from my stomach, and onto the street, as my sphincter could only sit there, feebly crying at its inability to maintain its contents.

So, I scurried into this little church where they were having a youth meeting, and I meekly asked where the bathroom was, already experiencing cold sweats and shortness of breath from sheer terror. He told me it was down the stairs, and I quickly started to make my way down, all the while feeling what can only be described as an alien being doing its best job at escaping its host. I seriously thought I was about to die from self-combustion. When I got down the stairs, I thought I had reached freedom, but unfortunately for me, the fun was just beginning. The basement was very dark, and all I could make out was about 8 closed doors. It was like a cruel version of shit-filled Russian Roulette. I was about to explode and only had time to try one of the doors, as I couldn't find the light switch. And of course, I guessed wrong, oh so wrong - the door I picked was locked, and wasn't the bathroom. At that point, I knew I had lost. The first dribblings of molten shit began to pour, unabated, down my leg. I tried my best to rip my clothes off, and ended up picking the nearest corner where I commenced what can only be described as a crime against humanity. My clothes were sopped with hot liquid feces, and proceeded to unleash a shit-mountain that was literally the size of the rock I blew up in my driveway. This thing was like a foot high and smoldering. I could not believe my 8 year old body could hold that much. It hit the ground with such force, it ricocheted back up my legs, onto the walls - I'm pretty sure some ended up on the ceiling. After about 5 minutes straight of explosive diarrhea, I was all empty. Unfortunately, my pants were totally destroyed, and I reeked of a sewage treatment plant. It was beyond foul, I almost threw up. Of course, when I finally looked up, I realized the light switch was right there, and found the bathroom about 3 feet away, adding horrible insult to injury. I tried to bath myself and my shit-caked pants off, to absolutely no avail. I panicked. I left my destroyed boxers in the stall, and for some reason, left a mountain of brown goo on the floor. To this day, I don't know why I didn't clean it up...that poor janitor that found that early the next morning. I still think about him....

I then had to concoct my exit plan. I knew I smelled worse than that kid from Slumdog Millionaire, so I decided when I got up the stairs, I would just bolt for the nearest opening, past the kids upstairs, and run to freedom. I did just that, except I picked a door that wasn't really a door, it was a large window without any stairs, and hurled myself into a large bush. I can only imagine the people seeing a shit-stained little kid vaulting himself through a window without saying a word...

I went back to my parents, when they immediately said "what is that awful smell...and why are you completely soaked?" I told them that I had slipped in a huge puddle, and fell directly into a huge pile of dog shit, explaining both circumstances. At the time, I felt like this was a totally plausible explanation, but looking back on it...yeah.

So, that's my story Reddit.