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where does the poop go?
Jul 28th, 2010 by micah the admin

I was fourteen years old and babysitting a toddler for a couple hours at his parents’ cabin. We had a wonderful time playing games and eating animal crackers. Right before his parents were due to return, he filled up his cloth diaper. I started to change him when I ran into a little problem: what to do with all the poop? You see, all the babies I’d previously sat for had disposable diapers. All I’d had to do was wad up the dirty diapers and toss them in the trash. I knew I couldn’t toss the cloth diaper, but I didn’t think I should put all that poop in the clothes hamper, either.

I knew the answer was right in front of me, but I had a major brain cramp. Where…did…the…poop…go? My mind froze and I panicked. The child’s parents would be arriving home any second. They must never, never know I didn’t understand this basic thing about child care, or they would laugh at me and never hire me again. After a few minutes of frantically racking my brain while the toddler ran around the kitchen, sans pants, I decided to try to think it through from another angle. “Where do we put food that we don’t want anymore?” I asked myself. “Aha! The garbage disposal!”

Feeling vaguely that it was wrong, but not knowing any other options, I emptied the diaper’s contents into the sink and, with a spoon, scooted the poop toward the drain. Feeling relieved that my ordeal was almost over, I hunted around for the garbage disposal switch. There wasn’t one; I had just clogged the drainpipe. At that instant, I had an epiphany: “The toddler’s poop goes in the toilet, you IDIOT! The same place YOUR poop goes!”

Crimson with shame at the extent of my spaciness, and mortified at what I had done, I hastily poured half a can of AJAX down the drain, and ran the water. I kept one eye on the clock, and one eye on the child as I frantically mashed down the remnants of poop that kept bobbing back up. I had just washed the spoon and scrubbed the sink for the hundredth time when the parents came home. I guiltily accepted their money and told them about our afternoon, omitting, of course, the diaper drama.

Apparently they never had any problems with their sink, because they asked me to babysit many times after that. I gladly did, being very careful from that point on to put human excrement in it’s proper receptacle.

The End.

Rachel – NH

skinny dipping at mom's
Apr 12th, 2010 by micah the admin

My in-laws appear to be very reserved people and quite frankly they intimidate me. When my husband suggested last August that we skinny dip in broad daylight in the river behind his parents’ house, I was horrified. Their driveway winds past one of the bends in the river and I knew they could drive past at any moment. I wasn’t about to let them see my bare backside on our family vacation. However, after my husband stripped down, I finally consented on one condition: we walk upstream to a more secluded area. He agreed and instead of donning his clothes for the hike like I assumed he would, he began strolling along the river bank buck naked with nothing but his river shoes on.
I followed him a safe 200 yards behind, hoping I could at least feign ignorance, forgetting I was carrying his clothes under my arm. We were almost safe around the river bend when I heard the sound that echoes terror in my mind to this day: a honking car horn. I whirled around to see my in-laws, who had paused in their driveway to wave at their wayward offspring. I stood there, dumbfounded, holding my husband’s clothes, and could not even bring myself to wave and possibly distract them from seeing their flasher son in the distance.
After about a thousand suns rose and set, they drove on, having had their fill. I prayed with all that was in me that my husband had made it around the bend in the creek. To my horror, my husband was still standing there, sun gleaming off his winter white body. He told me his only response to his parents was to wave proudly over his shoulder as his strolled on! To make matters worse, he still wanted to swim. He figured the worst was over, his parents saw him. So he continued up the creek to the “abandoned” foreclosed home next door to skinny dip in the former neighbor’s share of their creek. Not a minute later I see him running full tilt toward me, naked as a jaybird, a look of glee and shock on his face. “There have realtors there! They’re showing the house!”
It was one of the most awkward moments of my life facing his parents that night at dinner. Thankfully, they laughed it off. I would have thought we’d be ex-communicated! Next time my husband asks me to skinny dip, I’m waiting for twelve o’clock midnight.

Brittany – Somewhere

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