Niagra Fails

by Patti


I was new in town, and to make matters more awkward, new in the town's high school. I was pleasantly surprised when, after a mere two weeks as a new face at the school, a group of kids invited me over to one of their houses to "hang out" on a Saturday night. I arrived, feeling surprisingly shy, but was made to feel welcome and at ease within minutes. I felt like maybe I had fallen into a black hole and landed in the 50's, because the kids were wholesome and white-toothed, and wanted to play charades. Charades! On a Saturday night! But I went for it, and found I was actually having the best time.

At one point, I had to "use the facilities", and quietly asked the hostess where the nearest bathroom was. She pointed me to small half-bath around the corner, and I went in, my feet surprised to find shaggy carpet. I did my thing, waving my hand around a bit to hopefully ward off any odors (because the New Kid in Town did not have smelly poop), and flushed. And then flushed again. My poop floated defiantly, refusing to be swallowed up. I flushed once more, and that's when it happened. My poop, more defiant than ever, began to rise in horrific slow motion, carried by a building tidal wave of toilet water, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I waved my arms over the toilet bowl frantically, desperately willing it to stop, but it kept coming, triumphant in its rise to the top until, in a victorious slosh, it was carried over the toilet seat and directly onto the shaggy carpet.

Mortified, I tried to stop the disaster from worsening, but the toilet water, not to be outdone by my poop, followed suit, and it was if the entire sewer system's worth of water in the whole town decided to make its appearance right then, right now. The water gysered and gysered, carrying with it toilet paper and more poop, right onto the carpet.

Finally, it stopped. The bathroom was silent except for my pounding heart, and in the distance I heard my new friends laughing. I looked around for a window, a trap door, anything to save me from having to go back out there. Alas, I had no choice. I wadded up some toilet paper and picked up what I could, and flung it back into the toilet. After scrubbing my hands like a surgeon, I opened the door and poked my head out and around the corner to call the hostess. She came to me, smiling and unaware, and I whispered the news to her, my voice croaking with embarrassment. What did she do? She HUGGED me and told me it was all right, nobody had to know. Then she shut the door, and that was that. I was alternately grateful beyond belief, and a little disgusted.

We went back out into her living room, my own personal natural disaster left behind closed doors, my poker face in place, and we got right back into the game, as if my poop hadn't just covered this girl's shaggy carpet, and I hadn't just flung that poop with my own hands. I called out phrases, and acted some out, and laughed a little too maniacally. Mostly, I made sure my secret stayed safely tucked in my pocket, and in the little half-bath around the corner.