The Moose in the Closet: The Dirtiest Secret

Since I haven’t posted a new story in, I believe, two weeks I decided to give you all a special treat and post a story I originally decided I would never tell. It’s just too embarrassing. It’s also really gross so if you don’t like really gross stories, I suggest you don’t read this. Anyway, let’s go. I’m going to regret this, expect a story Tuesday to bump this one off the top spot.

This story actually takes place this past summer. I was in Boston, visiting my boy, Guam. I got to his place early on a Saturday – Robin dropped me off (she was visiting her family in Framingham). We made some turkey chili before meeting up with his friends to play some kickball.

We played two games of kickball. I haven’t played kickball since elementary school despite the fact that Washington DC has a large organized kickball league that all my friends played in for at least a season. I was alright – I did a good job fielding, not so good at kicking.

After kickball we went to a pub for some food and to start the drinking. We put down quite a few beers before going back to Guam’s house to pimp out for our evening of partying.

We went out to Improv Boston. Guam was hosting an improv show out there and I was coming along as the surprise guest host. We went to Bukowski’s first, had some sweet potato fries and beer. Afterwards we went to the supermarket and purchased some more beer that we drank at Improv Boston. The point is, we were drinking a lot and eating a lot of fried foods.

Anyway…

I cohosted the show with Guam. It was a good time. I was so drunk that I made fun of an albino kid by calling him “super-white” and told the audience that cops can, “smell the spic in me.” After the show we finished off the two six packs we purchased and went back to Bukowski’s for some more beers and some more sweet potato fries.

After Bukowski’s we went to another bar where we met up with Guam’s improv peeps. This part of the night was a bit of a blur. I remember wanting to fight one of Guam’s friends because I thought he was ignoring me. I remember comparing my cell phone to some underage Goth chick’s sidekick. She had some weird story about how she was living in a convent. I don’t remember much beyond that, though.

Guam and I left and the Goth girl split a cab with us. I don’t know where she came from, she was 18, I think. We get back to Kenmore (where Guam lives) and the Guam thought either one of us could have had the Goth girl. Again, I have no idea where that hypothesis came from since I don’t remember shit. For all I know she was grabbing my crotch the whole ride home.

We get back to Guam’s place. I have some more chili and stay up talking to Guam while I sober up some. Guam’s working on a paper for his class; he’s not even close to drunk anymore. As soon as I feel good enough to go to bed I lay my ass down on this uncomfortable couch, the kind of couch that forces you to sleep in a fetal position.

So, let’s recap: Drunk, full of chili and fried foods, tired, and in a fetal position. I’ll beat around the bush and just say it: I shat my pants.

I shot out of bed, remembering that the combination of beer and greasy foods is enough to give the strongest stomach diarrhea and that laying in a “relaxed asshole” position probably didn’t give me a fucking chance of catching this one before it blew.

I run into the bathroom. Much to my embarrassment, Guam is still awake. He says nothing. Yet.

I clean up. I start washing my underwear in the tub and it’s the grossest thing imaginable. I shower off – I won’t get into every little detail but it was kind of like the chocolate waterfall in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory except not as sweet and delicious, I’d imagine.

I get out of the shower, dripping wet. I crack the door open and…

“Guam?”

“What’s up?”

“Listen. I need a garbage bag, a towel, and I need you to promise you won’t ask me any questions.”

A minute later Guam hands me a garbage bag and a towel. Much to my relief he asks me no questions. I put my underwear and pajama bottoms in the plastic bag and tie it up tight. Wrap the towel around me and throw the bag away in the hallway. Come back in put some fresh underwear on. All the while I’m avoiding eye-contact with Guam but he’s just following me around like a friend concerned. Straight faced and waiting for me to ask for some help.

I sit back down on the couch; I probably looked fine, because it all comes out at that point.

“Dude. Did you just shit your pants?”

We both start laughing uncontrollably. Between gasps of breaths he manages to get some more cracks out, “Good thing you didn’t bring that Gothic chick back here, she would have fucked the shit out of you,” stuff of that nature. We finally calm down enough for me to ask him if he had a bucket I could borrow, I’m going to try and go to sleep again. He doesn’t have a bucket but he gives me a big pot.

The next morning Guam and I are quiet, like two friends who are embarrassed that we just shared a “pants shitting” moment. While I’m packing up Guam’s straightening up his place. He picks up the pot and says, “I’m glad you didn’t have to use this.” I tell him that I wasn’t really queasy last night to which he says, “No, I mean as a bedpan.”

We both start cracking up again. I make him promise to never tell anyone about what happened that night (and here I am writing about it on a website). I doubt he kept his promise; he came close to telling folks at the barbeque the next day. We’d just look at each other and start laughing and people would say, “What?” and Guam would ask, “C’mon, can I tell them?” I wouldn’t be surprised if all of Boston knows about this by now.

Anyway, there you go. Probably the lowest I’ve ever been. I haven’t been drinking much since then, realizing that I may have a little bit of a problem. Puke is one thing. We all puke – that shit happens. The moment you drink too much and shit your pants is the moment you say, “I can become an alcoholic or I can’t slow down the drinking.”

I decided to slow down the drinking.

Labels: dc, mitc

The Dirtiest Secret

Sunday, October 01, 2006

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