dutch fire dump

From scary

20 Nov 1995

I have read alt.tasteless the requisite 2 months, and have been thoroughly grossed out many, many times. thank you all

here is my contribution

I was working in amsterdam, netherlands for a few months, installing a computer network and teaching the folks there how to use it

I was in the middle of a client meeting in the boss's elegant offices with half a dozen people, and I felt a righteous shit coming on, so I excused myself at an appropriate point and retired to the adjoining executive bathroom (which was quite small, actually - a sink and a toilet)

they have these toilets in amsterdam (and I have heard they are elsewhere in europe, as well) that have a shelf that sits high and dry above the sump, so that when you shit, it sits on this shelf, presumably so that you can examine it after you are through. I like it, especially since it prevents getting toilet water splashed on your ass. since the shit is exposed it makes more of a smell, but that's okay by me - sight and smell evaluation of your dumps are an important part of hygiene

I made a rather large pile on the shelf, and used three handfuls of toilet paper to wipe (sequence: back to front, check, front to back, check, back to front again) and was about to get up when I felt a second wave coming on. oh well. it happens

the second wave was going to be more difficult, a hard shit following a soft shit. as I contemplated what I could have eaten the last day to bring about this sequence, I lit a cigarette to mask the prodigious miasma wafting out of the bowl. about halfway into the painful second dump I felt the need for some sort of mild sedation to help dull the pain, so I tossed the half-smoked cigarette into the bowl (from behind, being careful not to burn my ass) and lit a joint instead

as the fine dutch cannabis began curling around my brain, I became aware of a second, sharp pain on my ass. heat. I glanced around and saw flames licking out of the bowl, singeing my butt crack hairs and making my shirttail smoulder. the cigarette had caught the used toilet paper on fire. I jumped up and spun, shouting. the stalactite of poop which was hanging out of my sphincter whipped around and broke off, sticking to the wall momentarily before gracefully sliding to the floor, leaving a long, brown smear

the fire was merrily blazing away on the toilet shelf, and I reached around it to flush and put the fire out. nothing. the toilet was not functioning. I panicked, and flung the door open to the office, pants around my ankles, shit smeared on my ass, a joint in my hand, and shouted "FIRE!!"

six pairs of eyes were riveted on me and the fire in the toilet. there was no laughter as they scrambled. one of my co-workers (bless him) had the presence of mind to grab a chemical fire extinguisher and shoot it, first on the back of my smouldering shirt, and then on the pile of burning shit and toilet paper

in the quiet aftermath, I started laughing, and gradually the rest of the group joined in. I had a slight burn on my ass crack, the hairs were all singed away, and my shirt was ruined. we opened windows to clear out the foul-smelling smoke, cleaned up a bit, and resumed the meeting

when the meeting was through, the clients thanked me for the inadvertent entertainment. later that week, they sent me a brand new dress shirt to replace the one that was burned

all in the line of duty

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