It was MY poop, but still

So I was in the blissful stage when you're done pooping but you've yet to begin wiping...just kinda chilling there, staring off into space

Well I decide to look at my wallet to see when my gift card to Ruby Tuesday's expires, and from there I start counting to see how much cash I have

Amongst the crumpled 1's and 5's, I see a crisp Ulysses S. Grant starting back at me...I'd won it in an office putting competition a few weeks ago and completely forgotten about it

So I take it out while saying 'fuck yeah' when a second wave of dook hits me

I definitely thought I was done and did not expect it at all, and the shock was enough for me to lose my grip on the 50

It fluttered down through my legs and into the decrepit bowl of human waste below me. It was safely above the first level of turds, but the second, more viscous layer was intertwined with it, giving it a distinct look not unlike a pair of camo pants.

Now if it was a 20 or less, I probably would have let it go, but 50 bucks is 50 bucks, even to a self proclaimed baller like myself. So I rolled up my sleeve and used my ring and middle fingers to make a pincher of sorts and expertly picked up the very corner of the bill.

Its weight was considerable, given the extra load it carried, so it almost fell out of my grip as I pulled it to the bowl's rim. From there, I hung it on the handicap bar and watch it drip equal parts water and feces as I hurriedly wiped before the fecal matter on my buttocks began to crust.

That completed, I carefully ensconced the bill in several layers of TP and carried it to the sink, where I removed it from its carrier and rinsed it extremely thoroughly. The vast majority of the poop came off, but there were some specks that did not.

Rather than risk ripping the bill by scrubbing it harder, I chose to leave the specks. They weren't too noticeable unless you we're looking for them.

I carried the bill back to my office where it is now hanging from a makeshift clothesline to dry. I am off to Ruby Tuesday for lunch, since my GC expires tomorrow. I hope the bill will be dry by the time I get back, and I will use it to pay an unsuspecting bartender tonight. He won't suspect a thing.

1/30/2009 11:57:27 AM

tl; dr

laughed at the title though

1/30/2009 11:57:59 AM

shitting money must be awsome

1/30/2009 11:59:16 AM

JESUS H. CHRIST

Can someone give me the Cliff's Notes please?

1/30/2009 12:00:09 PM

Quote :

"as I hurriedly wiped before the fecal matter on my buttocks began to crust."

new york crust.

1/30/2009 12:00:39 PM

don't you work at a hedge fund? but yeah, i'd reach in there for $50 too

1/30/2009 12:01:35 PM

someone's going to use that $50 to snort some lines,

1/30/2009 12:02:50 PM

I, too, wipe my ass with $50 bills

1/30/2009 12:02:51 PM

I thought you were gonna put a $50 in a toilet with shit in it to test the character of the next toilet user.

1/30/2009 12:09:38 PM

you're short.

1/30/2009 12:11:57 PM

The real test would be to see the cheap bastards that would reach into a shitty toilet for a $10, a $5 and then eventually a $1.

1/30/2009 12:14:43 PM

man, go buy a pack of gum. get rid of that bill asap.

1/30/2009 12:23:26 PM

wwwest philadelphia born and raised...

1/30/2009 1:26:31 PM

is this a true story?

1/30/2009 1:28:19 PM

yes

and I thought about getting rid of it asap like EMCE suggested

but I decided I'd rather have the satisfaction that an entire nights worth of drinks were paid for by my fecal fifty

[Edited on January 30, 2009 at 2:00 PM. Reason : x]

1/30/2009 1:59:56 PM

either you've got the skinniest legs known to man, or this story is bullshit

1/30/2009 2:07:04 PM

i'd have jumped in for $1...coins I would have let go...unless it was a nice looking quarter with a state I liked on it

I def would have flushed new jersey though

1/30/2009 2:10:28 PM

not skinny legs

I sit further back on the toilet than most

so the gap between my legs and the front of the bowl is significant

1/30/2009 2:12:39 PM

I, too, bring out money over a toilet full of shit for some reason

1/30/2009 2:18:44 PM

the shitter is the only correct place for counting money

1/30/2009 3:54:48 PM

So dropping a deuce is now dropping a nifty?

1/30/2009 3:58:46 PM

I will never accept a $50 bill as payment ever again.

You should type in the serial number in that bill tracker website and see where it goes.

I think its wheresgeorge.com

[Edited on January 30, 2009 at 4:08 PM. Reason : -]

1/30/2009 4:07:37 PM

TO BEL-AIR!

1/30/2009 4:09:55 PM

I am glad you picked that $50 up out of that shit. I bet money wo falling into a toilet full of shit is more grody.

1/30/2009 4:15:08 PM

Quote :

"I will never accept a $50 bill as payment ever again."

oddly enough, i never have

it's an old gambler's addage that fifties are really, really bad luck

1/30/2009 4:18:05 PM

I love fifties

Because 20 is plebeian and 100 makes it look like you're trying to floss

but 50 is the right in the middle...enough for a fancy lunch or a decent dinner for two with tip, or enough for a solid night of drinking

its probably my favorite bill

[Edited on January 30, 2009 at 4:20 PM. Reason : x]

1/30/2009 4:20:13 PM

50's mean you stand in line at the bank

1/30/2009 4:35:07 PM

after reading the thread title, it took me a minute to realize you were talking about a $50 bill

i though this was gonna be about a super-40 or something

[Edited on January 30, 2009 at 4:48 PM. Reason : as in ounces]

1/30/2009 4:46:44 PM

LOL...slave...you're fuckin funny

1/30/2009 5:00:38 PM

This fecal matter had emanated from my buttocks, but I digress

I had reached excremental nirvana - the state where expulsion is complete, but wholesale clean-up of the anal region with soft, angel-endorsed paper products has yet to begin. This was characterized by my lack of focus - verily, I was looking into the very gaps between time where one often finds themselves trapped in selfless thought.

During this state of fecal recovery, an odd artifact crept into my mind: Was I still on possession of a card that bore no real fiscal value, but was available to be used as trade for foodstuffs at a fine eating establishment named after a song by the band Mick Jagger started in late 1962? This set my mind on another path: How many notes of currency, endorsed by the United States Federal Reserve, was I in possession of? What was the sum of their face values? These questions consumed me.

In the valleys and furrows of my leather-bound personal repository, I found myself sorting through numerous notes from the aforementioned reserve - notes with forefathers from the annals of American history drawn across them. Great men, such as George Washington, who could not tell a lie when faced with his father's wrath, and Abraham Lincoln, who navigated our nation through its most perilous times. Also hidden amongst them, one emblazoned with the visage of Lincoln's most trusted subordinates - General (later President) Ulysses S. Grant. I'd achieved victory over my peers in some trivial pursuit some weeks before, and had been awarded this magnificent piece of financial rarity as a bounty.

Naturally, I was quite pleased with my finding, as well as with myself. In the midst of my jubilation, trouble erupted at my south end. It appeared that my calculations were incorrect. The fecal expulsion plan I had previously mentioned was only half complete.

The force by which this development affected my person was enough to make me lose focus and release my grasp on this most coveted item of legal tender for debts both public and private.

As I saw the note dance against buffeting air, ending invariably in the porcelain containment area where my rectal waste had accumulated, I was reminded of a poem by Robert Frost.

I peeked down to observe the final landing place, and I observed with much chagrin that the item I had so recently been ecstatic about was now sandwiched between two layers of my own foul, concentrated evil, expressed into a tubal form on the bottom, and a form not unlike mucus on the top. My artist's mind immediately saw the parallel between the now green and brown found below my toilet seat, and the colors used by militaries in woodland environs around the world to conceal their troops.

Had this bill been one adorned by Andrew Jackson, I would have let bygones be bygones and this saga would have ended thusly. Unfortunately, this was not the case. I was forced to follow my principles. I had to rescue this wondrous piece of American sentimentality, regardless of my own fiscal standing.

After a quick coming to terms with myself and the situation, I decided it best to bring my sleeves to my elbow, and to managed to affect my fingers into a position to live long and prosper with one of the lesser fecally-afflicted note's corners.

The heft applied to the bill was tremendous, and during the arduous process of retrieval, I almost lost my quarry. After a time, I eventually won out and pulled Grant's portrait to safety, and hung it on a bar meant to facilitate the ease of mounting and dismounting my porcelain throne. It lay there, sodden with water and sullied by my personal dirt, dripping both to the floor.

After this saga was complete, I realized that it would require haste to remove any fecal matter from my own anal sanctum prior to its eventual drying.

Now, I was faced with the unenviable task of trying to restore this incomparable item to items previous feces free glory. First, I mummified the bill using several swaths of soft anal tissue papers. This cocoon would help me carry it to the sink, where I would be better able to cleanse it of my stench and filth. The healing waters of the basin helped to restore some of the note's vim and vigor, but there were still some small kernels of evidence. I made an executive decision - these patches of poo weren't something that would catch Joe Everyday's eye. I would leave them, for fear of shredding this valuable scrap of paper.

My lavatory adventure complete, I returned to my office to create a drying system for this newfound - yet also newly sullied - reward I had garnered.

I have decided that I will indeed visit the fine dining establishment I mentioned earlier, only to make use of the card I'd discovered was mere hours away from expiry.

My sincerest hope is that my bounty will have baked in the sun, and will be moisture free when I return from my lunchtime jaunt. The plan is to use it this eve, to pay some poor, naive barkeep for my alcoholic beverage purchases. It's a brilliant plan - no one expects their monetary compensation to have been coated in their customer's rectal expulsions mere hours before.

1/30/2009 7:11:16 PM

Quote :

"I just dropped a 50 into a toilet filled with poop"

........and i JIZZED IN MY PANTS

1/30/2009 7:18:48 PM

Quote :

"not skinny legs I sit further back on the toilet than most so the gap between my legs and the front of the bowl is significant"

you're one of those fuckers responsible for the shit stains on the back of the toilet seat

1/30/2009 7:42:09 PM

Quote :

"I see a crisp Ulysses S. Grant starting back at me."

1/30/2009 8:08:16 PM

i woulda left it, and then see if someone had a $50 hangin up to dry later

1/30/2009 10:51:13 PM

1/30/2009 11:15:50 PM

Who the fuck carries a $50 bill?

1/31/2009 3:25:24 AM

dude said ensconced


$1

1/31/2009 5:04:05 AM

Wow, what a great thread.

It makes you think, and it makes you , and it makes you lol.

1/31/2009 5:13:28 AM

I call bullshit you stole this story from the mad stork during his playing days with the raiders.

1/31/2009 7:46:18 AM

50/10

1/31/2009 7:53:09 AM

my grandpas favorite euphemism for taking a shit is "counting my money" then he always like to qualify that statement with "it wont take long because I dont have much money". In realty he just has chronic constipation due to old age and gives up quickly already knowing the outcome.

1/31/2009 9:42:43 AM

for some reason i read the title as a fifth instead of a 50... At least you can still drink a 50. I dunno if I would have that fifth i read...

1/31/2009 12:24:16 PM

Quote :

"fecal fifty"

1/31/2009 12:50:14 PM