Friday, October 29, 2010

childhood trauma content ahead!

I’ve never shit my pants. Actually, that’s not true at all. A much more accurate way to say that would be to say that I used to shit my pants all the time. As a kid, I tended to not wipe as thoroughly as I could have and the results were lots of hastily wadded up and hidden streaky underpants. That’s not exactly ‘shitting you pants’ per se, but the general results: shit particles on your underpants, were the same.

I can actually only think of twice that I’ve actually dropped a dump in my pants, if we’re being completely honest. Once was when I was over at Eric Bachewicz’s house. It was winter and snowing and we were out ‘skitching’ which was essentially hiding between parked cars and then running out and grabbing onto the bumper of a passing car and letting the car pull you through the snow. This was an entirely stupid pastime, and it really didn’t work that well, but that didn’t stop us. We were out there with a dude named Norman and his brother who was named Rayhan. These guys were, uh…they were eastern Euros of some sort, maybe serbs (?), and they didn’t really like me that much. They were kind of bullies.

Norman and Rayhan were friends with Eric, and so was I so we tolerated each other (well, that’s not really a fair way to categorize the relationship. Realistically, they thought I was some kind of total fag and I pretty much just prayed they wouldn’t attack me [which actually goes a long way towards proving my ‘total fagdom,’ if I’m really examining the whole thing with unprejudiced eyes]). We’d all hang out and I, as the kind of outsider/loser of the squad, would foolishly try to do the ballsiest things I could think of to win the respect of these two guys who are probably both janitors now (not that I have a job of any kind. Just sayin).

This included hanging out and skitching even though I was feeling sick. SO, as a particularly slow moving car headed down Wellington ave. I came out from between the cars and grabbed the bumper. Now, skitching, as you may have guessed, doesn’t hardly work at all. When I grabbed the bumper, the only thing that happened was that I fell forward pretty violently and shit my pants with a savage ferocity that can only be summed up as “Totally Gross”. I went back to Eric’s house and scooped the bright orange goopy crap out of my underwear and off my legs. The shit had come out in spray form, not unlike the way that pink goo shot out of the dudes’ hoses in Ghostbusters 2, and it had done a pretty good number on my drawers, my pants and even my socks(!) and it also smelled kind of gnarly (if you can believe it!) I wrapped my ruined underwear in toilet paper and explained to Eric’s mom that shit wasn’t going so well and I was gonna just go home. Then I went outside and threw my underwear away in the dumpster (keep in mind it was FREEZING! And I was wearing wet [because of poo] pants), endured a little open mockery from Norman Rayhan and Eric and then went home and promptly took a hot bath. That sucked. The other time I shit my pants was way better.

My mom had this boyfriend who was a real asshole. His name was Michael Gratz. Michael Gratz had a son named Michael Gratz jr. and the day we met (me and the son) he called me a fag (this was obviously a common theme in my childhood) because I liked Michael Jackson. I was probably 7. I could not fathom how someone could not like Michael Jackson, much less think that his fans were fags. This kid was uh…probably ten or eleven, just by the way. He thought Michael Jackson and all his fans were fags. That’s pretty advanced, right? Anyway, I aksed him what music he liked, as I was so completely blown away by his opinion, and his response: John Waite and his classic jam (which was, at the time a current hit) Missing You. Now, if I can editorialize for a second, there’s nothing cool about being reductive and using the word “fag” in any sort of context, but seriously, the gayness of John Waite and Missing You cannot be overstated. Michael Jackson and Beat It are fucking Burt Reynolds eating a tiger raw compared to John Waite, bro. No two ways about it.

Anyhoo, we (me, my mom, and the two Michael Gratz’s) were going on a road trip from St. Louis (where I lived as a wee one) to Nantucket (where Michael Gratz had a summer home that he visited about twice a year). This was a horrifying prospect for me because while Michael gratz Jr. made no secret of openly hating me, his dad was more treacherous, threatening me and shaking me and shit when my mom would leave the room. The whole thing kind of sucked, and though I had a great time in Nantucket, I was always on edge, and I was constantly under attack by this father son team that really, for whatever reason, hated my faggy guts.

I remember that the house out there reminded me at the time of the house in Weekend At Bernies and I also remember that I got my favorite shirt from my childhood out there (it was a fish skeleton) and here’s the other thing I remember:

Michael Gratz yelling at me and Michael Gratz junior constantly punching me and me waiting, biding my time until the last day we were there. See, I hated these guys a lot, and I may have been a faggy cockblocker (a sentiment so personally revolting that I can barely handle it, but realistically, that’s why dude didn’t like me, right? He was trying to bang my mom and I was often in the way…ew. Ew. Ew. I, like all humans, like to imagine that my mom has no genitals and was impregnated in a lab) but I was also an intelligent and highly revenge motivated little boy. I KNEW that they only came to this house twice a year (when we showed up, the amount of getting shit together so we could function in the house betrayed that it had been a LONG time since anyone had been there) and I figured that I could pull a highly subversive move pretty easily if I just waited for my moment.

So, on the last day we were there, we’d packed our bags and everything, we were leaving and all in the car. I ran back into the house under the guise of going to the bathroom, which I kind of did. I shit in my pants. On purpose. I shit into my underwear, took off my shitty underwear and hid the shitty underwear in the vent of the room that I’d shared with Michael Gratz Jr. I knew it would be a bare minimum of six months before anyone found that dumpy load, and I was pretty proud of my little plan.

I rode all the way back to St. Louis with no underwear on, and it was worth it. It was great. This is also a story I’ve never really told anyone before, and if it wasn’t for the big bottle of Jim Beam on the table at the JBTV staff meeting (and my resulting hangover) I probably wouldn’t have told it right now. But, yeah. I’ve got lots and lots of great stories like this, folks. Lots.

26 comments:

Blake said...

AMAZING.

jplemon said...

An old grizzled guy in a dumpy northern Wisconsin bar once told me he had only been drunk once. I said, "thats impossible your sitting in a bar at 8:30am on a tuesday." He simply replied with, "I am not drunk unless I shit my pants, you little pot licker. So I will say it again, I have only been drunk once." I Sucked up my pride and bought the gentleman a Blatz.

Dario Schmario said...

I was laughing the whole time reading this. I got plenty of stares from the people at the computers around me in the library. FUCK this is what i do instead of studying for my midterm.

peter said...

that is...epic.

FranklinStein said...

Delicious. A few days before my family moved from Dallas to San Antonio back when you guys were recording "A Guided Tour of Chicago," I had one of my friends over for a few days to spend quality time together since I'd likely never see him again. Anyway, for whatever reason he left his overnight bag and it got shuffled in the move. I found it when we moved in to our new house a few days later and opened it up to see the contents. It smelled abhorrent. Beneath a few clothes lied a crumpled pair of boxers. I picked them up and was disgusted to find that they were encrusted with shit. "What an asshole," I thought. I placed the shitty boxers back into the bag.

A few months later when we were visiting Dallas, I had my dad drive by my asshole friend's house so that I could return the bag, with the shitty boxers still inside. I placed them on the doormat, rang the bell, got into my dad's car, and drove off. I never received a thank you note, so labeling him an asshole is justified.

dustyfloors said...

That's awesome! So VERY awesome!!!

maggiejoan said...

this story is fucking amazing. Obviously not the part where your mom's boyfriend and his Mongoloid cock knocker of a son harassed you, but your revenge was absolutely flawless. The only thing that would have made it better would be hiding raw meat in the curtains and couch cushions in addition to the shit-vent. Well done.

jackson said...

You played hide the duke at 7?!? Man you are a fucking genius. God damn.

Seagull Steve said...

Wow. I wish I was that cunning and vengeful as a kid.

Jesus said...

Wow. Just wow.

Julene Horowitz said...

As a girl, I feel obligated to say I have never defecated in my life let alone done so in my pants.

This story is still priceless.

It's A-me, Martucci said...

Julene - wouldn't a wildcat like yourself opt for a racey subversion of the typical girls don't poo notion by offering up your funniest childhood poo pants anecdote and/or a joke about how you 'still shit your american apparel cumfy-fit (tm) sweats once a month on avg' instead of tossin out the universal 'prim and proper' cliche re: grrrls/poop? Or were you a step ahead and in turn suvberted THAT preconceived expectation of irony on your behalf by instead reverting to the ol' girls/poop cliche? I was just surprised, is all

It's A-me, Martucci said...

"Racy bro. Racy."

Nick said...

Cue sedatephobic and some young guy jokes.

Sean said...

So my Fest plans fell through cuz my dumb friends would only go if you or one of your bands played...

While I admit that would make the weekend infinitely times sweeter, it wasn't a complete deal-breaker for me...

Just curious... how come you didn't decide to (couldn't?) go this year?

Candice said...

i was thinking that same thing, nick.

this was a very good shitting your pants story. my favorite can be found 12 posts down here:

http://www.thesockdrawer.org/2010/03/02/sock-hop-chicago-the-cobra-skulls-edition/page11/

Drunken Acorn said...

Ha that was an awesome post truly epic BK. Now Can I ask something of all the Socks and you BK. Please Please Please can all of you watch this new show on AMC called The Walking Dead. It's about a group of people living in a zombiepocalypse world. It's based off my favorite comic book. (by the same name) Im just trying to tell as many people as I can about the show because I don't want it to be canceled after three episodes like most shit on TV now days. It starts this Sunday at 7pm on AMC. Thanks guys & gals. Trust me it will be an awesome show. Later.

Gregory said...

the only way this would have been better revenge is if you had smeared the shit all over the walls and spelled out "you're a douche" or something like that. awesome job though. michael gratz is a cockface

It's A-me, Martucci said...

"Gratz, I got a feeling your whole family's goin down..."

Maximilian said...

nick, candice, i think everyone who's on the other sock drawer thought of that story immediately

Toto said...

i peed my uncle's van like 3 times on the same night, we had a really strong fight the day before, but the next day he didn't even notice,what a lame revenge, now i know, i should have taken a dump on the driver's seat, or written my name in shit on the windshield.

fecal matter is the best way to say "i'm afraid we disagree", like "listen, i can name you the reasons why we won't get along, or why we both hate each other,but i won't, so here you have, this is the worst thing my body produces".

is there any chance those Gratz assholes read this blog? i wish they did.

Y'allAreBrutalizinMeEe! said...

Candiss I had this dreem where you were bisbehavin n I was all, "I'ma stick an original o.o.p. vhs copy of 'Bedknobs N Broomsticks' up yer rear hole n make you a live akshin jim hinsin puppit" peppurony pizza dreems

Y'allAreBrutalizinMeEe! said...

Real talk did ya hafta gugle jim hinsin? course ya did

Julianne5689 said...

I love you BK, your amazing<3

Jacob William said...

While I read this I knew the comments would be about me. I actually drunkenly told that story to BK and some other people at the bar about a month ago too...

TheMEATBOSS said...

I pooped my pants in 1st grade once and had to finish the entire day like that. It used to be cool to be the first in line at recess so I used that as my excuse to not move around when everyone else was going nuts that day on the playground. Then when anyone in class complained of the smell I defensively blamed it on the fat kid in class and everyone bought it. "Roupas keeps farting!" When I got home I ran upstairs to clean my shit caked ass off but my mom caught me and had to scrub me down in our utility tub. By then it was hard as a rock and stuck to my skin so that sucked for my mom. Rough day overall I'd say.