Cannibal Day

Interested in pursuing technical writing certification, I registered for two summer courses in technical writing at a local community college.

The quarter commenced Monday.

I forgot how ineffectual college professors can be.

My first "Survey of Technical Writing" class somehow ended with me standing in front of the classroom reading the "Declaration of Independence" out loud. I purposely sped through it so I could leave as soon as possible.

A good sign of a bad college professor? Group projects.

Do professors realize how inconvenient group projects are in college?

Lunched with my quasin Kathy before leaving Los Angeles.

I told her I'd love to program a film festival someday.

She scoffed.

"No offense, but you're a misanthrope."

Intent on following a busy itinerary smoothly last week, I willed myself not to poop until I could properly devote time to pooping at night.

By the end of the week, however, I stopped being able to poop at all.

I suppose constipation was a pleasant twist on my usual traveling bowel horror stories.

Bored on my flight home, I devised a rough script for an autobiographical sitcom.

Jon enters one of many public restroom stalls to poop
fat man soon enters the stall to his right —> noise
father and toddler then enter the stall to his left —> talking
Jon can't poop


Jon: I haven't been able to poop in five days.
Rory: Sucks. Do you need inspiration?
Jon: What? I'm not donating sperm, dude.
Rory: Well, maybe the sight of, say, a Cleveland steamer will, you know, induce a shit.
Jon: No, that'll just induce vomiting. Wrong orifice.

Rory: Just go buy some laxatives.
Jon: I don't want to be seen in public buying laxatives though. It's embarrassing!
Rory: Dude, fuckin' hide the laxatives among a bunch of purchases!

cashier rings up Jon's items:
adult diapers, extra small condoms, maxi pads, Preparation H, wine coolers, laxatives

Jon: Fuck, dude, my bowels are out of control. Do you have any Pepto-Bismol at your place?
Rory: I don't think so. Why?
Jon: I need to reverse the tide, so to speak.
Rory: And the Pepto-Bismol will…
Jon: …harden the stool that the laxatives softened!
Rory: I see. How many laxatives did you take?
Jon: Two tablets, every six hours, like the box says.
Rory: Lemme see that. Dude, the box says "two tablets in a single daily dose." This isn't cold medicine!
Jon: Huh. Well… I assumed… quite a few tablets in the… [sigh] Forget it. Just do me a favor and drive me to CVS.
Rory: But you live right next to a Safeway.
Jon: I can't shop there anymore. Check bounced.

heavy traffic hinders substantial auto movement
Jon needs to poop again
Rory pulls into a strip mall

Jon: Every restroom's for customers only.
Rory: So buy something! You need money?
Jon: Nah, I can hold it until we locate a more affordable commode.

heavy traffic continues to hinder substantial auto movement
Jon can't hold it any longer
Rory hurries toward the nearest free restroom —> public park
Jon runs toward the restroom, overexcites his bowels and poops his pants on his way in
Jon notices the restroom stalls lack doors, realizes it's too late to hesitate
pooping is go

old man walks in to see Jon, trou dropped, trying to clean up the liquidy brown mess in his pants and all over the toilet

Jon: It's exactly what it looks like.

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