The Boy Who Was Afraid to Crap

Robby flicked through the channels.

It was a usual summer weeknight after supper; boring. Too young to drive, and too old to enjoy the television. Only a bland assortment of re-runs and game shows were on the tube. He thought he needed to come up with a hobby. His friend Jeff was on his way over to play catch in a few minutes. There wasn’t even a ballgame on.

He was just deciding whether or not to go outside and wait for him when the stomach cramps seized him.

The familiar panic began to beat through his body. It was his greatest fear, the thing he worried about all week, the thing he hoped would never happen:

He was about to crap.

Oh shit...not now! thought Robby. The irony of his thought caused a shrieking laugh to explode from his mouth.

Teeth clenched, he dropped the remote control with a clatter and staggered like a sailor up the stairs to the main bathroom, desperately clutching his stomach (as though that would stop what was about to happen) the entire time. Along the way, his anus contracted painfully, causing him to lose his balance and bounce off of the wall like a veteran drunk.

“Oh god, please!,” Robby screamed, scrabbling at the wallpaper.

Now, crapping is not an unusual activity. But Robby's craps happened to be. The reason? They were nearly the size of footballs when they finally emerged. This is actually how Robby thought of them - as footballs - because he was so traumatized that he was unable to think of a visit to the bathroom in anything other than abstract terms. So he'd think to himself:

I hope I don't drop any footballs tonight.

Or:

I pray to God I don't fumble any footballs today at school.

They weren't really the size of footballs, but they were pretty fucking huge, to be totally honest with you. Far bigger than should be expected from a 13-year old boy. And they scorched his ass like hell every time he had to go. So naturally Robby was afraid anytime it had to happen. All week long, Robby ate cheese to delay the inevitable.

“You’re my little mouse!,” exclaimed his mother.

Little did she know. Robby hated the cheese, hated the thick, toenail stench of it. But since he believed it kept him from going to the bathroom, then he’d eat pounds of it, by god. But eventually he’d have to go in there.

Stumbling, Robby made it at last into the bathroom. He slammed the door, flipping the ancient deadbolt across. Now, he was safe from anything coming in...but he was worried about what would be coming out.

He managed to yank off his pants without screeching womanishly, and ripped off his feeble Power Rangers underwear. His hands shook like his grandmother’s.

But he did, however, plop painfully down onto the toilet seat and cause the cramps to ravage his body once more. Robby moaned pitifully and began the process he endured about once a week: he waited. He had felt the earthquake-like onset of this episode a few hours earlier and had managed to hold it in, forgetting about what must be done.

Until now.

Everything about the bathroom was hideous to Robby. The whiteness - so sterile and cold, like a morgue or hospital. The dank dripping of the faucet in the tub. He had nightmares about that sound, the goddam thing dripped no matter how hard you turned the tap off. The toilet paper on its stainless-steel peg, an obscene parody of something tasteful.

You wipe your ass with it!, he screamed in his mind. You scrub shit off on it! It's so gross! How can they advertise it on television? The toilet paper sat implacably. The time was soon.

Robby clutched the wooden toilet seat with slimy fingers, feeling his loathsome sweat popping out all over his body. It was humid here in the bathroom, and his fear only made the sensations worse. Most disgustingly, he was now sliding around now atop the toilet seat in greasy smears of his own terrorized buttsweat.

Robby wondered if the quiet sounds of his desperation were making their way throughout the ductwork of the old house to the other members of his family below. He hushed suddenly, imagining them with their heads cocked to the side as they listened to him taking a dump upstairs. Oh, the misery of fecal matter.

Robby gritted his teeth as he felt the tip of the crap begin to poke out of his rectum. “No…NO!” Robby willed it not to happen this time. Robby begged it not to come out. What if Jeff came now? Was he here already? He was sure he would die of embarrassment. He tensed himself even harder, but it was not enough.

The door of the bathroom suddenly pounded.

"Robby? Oh, you little dink. Hurry up." His brother, Alex.

"You fucking bastard,"Robby whispered hatefully. "Go away, go away..."

Bitter tears were now sliding down his cheeks. After an eternity, he heard Alex's heavy footsteps stalk away. At least he would be spared the humiliation of pooping while his brother waited outside the door.

Robby's heart was pounding in his chest. A sprint wouldn’t provoke such a reaction. Time was now very short. A sudden convulsive, chuffing fart blew out of his ass as the involuntary muscles in his stomach contracted. Wonderful - he was bathed in the hot aroma of his own body wastes.

Hell was a bathroom, he was certain.

"Dyugggh...yuuuuhhhh-uhhhh," he groaned. The huge, bloated piece of shit began the inevitable slide out of his ass. It was hot, burning the tender tissues there like a piece of molten iron. His anus chafed with the incredible, gigantic passage of the waste. Robby imagined the Titanic emerging from between his buttcheeks, splitting his colon apart, tearing open his intestines as it escaped.

Robby shook his head in futile negation. The time was now.

"No. NO!"

"ARRGHH!! YARRGHH!!!"

Ploop!

The huge chunk splashed into the water of the toilet. But wait, there was more! Another disgusting squeeze, and...

Sploosh! Out came another. Robby gasped in relief, collapsing on his hairy legs. He knew it was over.

And as he did before, and would every time to follow, he lifted his leg to look.

There they were, the two pieces were floating serenely, not even staining the pristine clarity of the water. A stray piece of peanut was embedded in one. Must have been from the Oh Henry I ate a few days ago, thought Robby. And now, he began to sob without restraint. Everything was fine. The world had not ended. He would live for another week. He would play catch. He wiped, pulled up his pants, flushed, and went outside.

Jeff wasn’t here yet. Robby thanked God for small miracles.

And tried not to limp.