Still 0221 hrs. I barely had enough time to get comfortable before the first wave hit. I could hear porcelain cracking, floors creaking, gagging from the mouse who lives under my house (maybe he’ll move now). I started to get light-headed, so I leaned forward, grabbed to the side of the tub, and pushed as I had never pushed before. That push created a bigger void inside me than any women could ever compete with.
0224 hours. Finally, it was over. I feared finishing up and going back to bed though. Past history has taught me lessons. So I sat here for a few more minutes, in case the second wave decides to show its nasty face. This gave me time to contemplate, why was I awakened so violently? Was it subway or the check mix? It couldn’t be the sandwich. I tried to keep it healthy for once. That’s when I recalled a conversation that I had with one of my employees. We’ll call her, Suspect numero uno. She brought some homemade Chex mix for me tonight. As we were leaving the store, she reminded me to grab the container (I think she planned this). She warned me earlier, that it might induce a poop. Boy, she wasn’t lyin. Her intentions were solid…the poop was not.
0301 hrs – afraid to go back to bed. Yes, I’m still sitting here. Nothing has happened in 36 minutes, but that doesn’t mean it won’t come back.
Was it the sub or the Chex mix? (part 1) - Porcelain DiariesFebruary 2, 2021
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