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Toby Miracle wheezed watery breaths as he clenched his sphincter waiting for an empty stall. It was1:45, if he didn’t pinch this loaf quick he’d be late for the 2 o’clock meeting. He heard an occupant turn the page of a newspaper. “Jesus fucking Christ, you know sometimes people use your private reading room as a shitter,” he said. A flush resounded in the end stall, the door opened and out came Mr. Standish, Miracle’s boss. “Don’t be late for the 2 p.m. meeting, Toby. We need you there for the audit,” he said. Miracle nodded his head and coughed violently, losing his grip on his bowels and shooting a turd into his underwear. He shuffled, nodding, into the vacant stall, staring through tear-streaked, bulging eyes at the reflection of his wary boss in the mirror. He fumbled undoing his belt in a frantic attempt to drop his slacks. Leaning over, his glasses fell from his shirt pocket into the toilet with a splash. “Goddamnit!” Someone snickered next door. Wrapping toilet paper around his hand, he fished blindly into the bowl and retrieved his glasses, which he stuck, wet, into his pants pocket. Miracle got his pants around his ankles, and folded down his underwear hoping to aim the turd into the bowl. It bounced off the seat and landed on the floor. The adjacent occupant dropped his paper, hiked up his khakis and left abruptly. Miracle reached for the toilet paper roll, dropped it and watched as it rolled away. He snagged the abandoned newspaper underneath the stall partition and wrapped a page around his turd. He threw it into the bowl then finally sat down, unaware of his manager’s itchy clots of gray pubes that dappled the warm plastic seat. A corner of the newspaper poked his asshole, which triggered an instinctive reaction that sealed his sphincter shut and sucked his excrement back into his rectum. His ass was smeared with newsprint ink. Miracle spread his cheeks, held his breath and pushed. His face turned red like a turnip, yet nothing voided. “Goddamnit,” he said, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. He noticed a clump of feces on one of his fingernails, then felt more of the same on his forehead. “Shit! Goddamnit!” he said again. He reached for another newspaper page, but it was out of his reach so long as he sat on the bowl. He nudged himself toward the paper, rocking back and forth hoping to reach it, all the while, pushing his bowels to empty. With a hearty shove, he fell forward onto the cold, red tile floor, breaking his left kneecap and expelling a massive log of shit onto his shoes and the floor. Half an hour later, a junior accountant from the 32nd floor found Miracle writhing in pain and smeared in his own shit. He called an ambulance. Miracle missed the meeting. The audit did not go well.
Date Written: August 27, 2005
Author: Kenji X
Average Vote: 4.40909