When I was about 10 years old, I finally got invited to a popular girl's birthday sleepover.
I didn't have many friends so I was SUPER EXCITED.
We had a lot of fun and everyone was really excited about all the food and movies and
stuff.
After a while, I needed to use the restroom, so I went upstairs to the less trafficked
one which was the only one available.
I went pee and then proceeded to flush . . . when the toilet began backing up.
Panicking I kept trying to flush it, but all it proceeded to do was cause more and more
sewage to spill over.
I was so scared everyone would make fun of me.
I didn't think anyone would believe me that I didn't sh*t that ungodly amount, though
I should have realized it wasn't humanly possible.
But I still feared everyone would think I blew out my a** and destroyed their toilet.
And girls being girls . . . It would be the end of my social life.
After crying in the bathtub (the only safe place from all the sewage) . . .
I finally pulled myself together and found my determination.
No!
I would not go down as the girl who destroyed the bathroom!
No one would ever see this!
I searched under the bathroom sink and found a whole array of cleaning supplies within
a small bucket for storage.
The bathroom I was in was on the second story, and had a window facing the backyard (which
was all weeds and junk and no one used).
Painstakingly, bit by bit, I drained the toilet and poured it out the second story window
onto the weeds and grass.
Every time I'd remove some sewage, more would surface to take its place.
It took about ten minutes of continuous, adrenaline filled, bucket tossing before I had drained
the toilet (and probably the whole septic tank).
I then proceeded to clean the bathroom spotless, mopping and bleaching everything I could.
By the time I was done, the room that had previously looked like someone had back-scattered
20 gallons of sh*t was clean enough to eat off of.
I quickly made my escape, dashing into the darkness like some sort of evil villain.
I snuck to my backpack, and put on my pajamas a little early before going back to movie
and snack time.
Luckily (but kind of sadly) no one realized I had been missing for the last thirty minutes
and I slipped in and enjoyed some ice-cream.
On the inside, I felt like crying in relief and singing the rest of the night away like
a drunken Japanese man nursing a bottle of sake.
No one would ever know.
Or so I thought.
We woke in the morning to the girl's mother screaming.
And I mean screaming.
I guess I forgot that though they didn't use their grungy backyard, the mom still went
out there to smoke on the porch.
Scared and guilty, I wandered to the back deck, upset that none of the sewage had drained
into the grass like I thought it would.
When we got out there, I realized what she was screaming about.
A 20 foot long, 2 foot wide, brown streak-mark ran down the second story bathroom window
to the grass.
Everyone knew it was sh*t, but no one knew where it came from.
The whole bathroom was spotless and the toilet was (surprisingly) working.
But painted from the window edge and down, was a slide of fecal matter.
Before I could say anything . . .
<Mother:> "An . . . Andrew, what . . . the . . . hell . . . DID-YOU-DO??
Did you f*cking sh*t out the window?
Oh my god!
YOU SH*T OUT THE WINDOW?"
Andrew, the older brother who had went out with friends the night before so he wouldn't
have to be with a bunch of little girls, got back early in the morning and was already
in trouble for having been drinking.
His face was whiter than a sheet as he tried to deny it, but the way his eyes traced upwards-
I could tell he wasn't too sure himself.
His mom f*cking lost her mind.
Mom: "YOU SH*T OUT A TWO STOREY WINDOW!
YOU SH*T ALL OVER THE SIDE OF MY HOUSE!"
Mom: "OH MY GOD- THERE IS SH*T ALL OVER MY HOUSE!
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"
The neighbours, hearing the commotion, peered around to see what the mother was screaming
at.
They could hear the accusation "Andrew sh*t out the window!" and they came around chuckling
at the idea, but their smiles faded from that joke the moment they saw the full length brown
slide that was consistent from ground to window.
No one bother to realized it wasn't humanly possible to sh*t that much, I guess.
Andrew was screaming that he didn't do it, he had no idea how it got there, his mom was
losing her mind, his dad was screaming
Dad: "How did you even do this?
What the f*ck did you eat!"
And before long everyone, including the girls, were freaking out about the 20 foot sh*t stain.
Being such a horrible person . . . I slid back into the house.
My mom came and got me after a while and I finally went home.
I ended up crying and confessing the whole thing to her, and she died laughing.
She didn't rat me out, though.
To this day, everyone still talks about Andrew's Window Sh*t.
Everyone truly thought he wandered home drunk , went to use the bathroom- and just sat on
the edge on the windowsill and braced himself.
And I'm still sitting here with a poker face.
Until now, publicly that is.
So yeah,
Sorry Andrew.
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