Why am I feeling a gentle autumn breeze caress my anus, you ask? And why is my ex-girlfriend’s mother sobbing from her window as I take the most monstrous shit of my life on her lawn? A shit so monstrous, that no Bristol stool scale rating can describe the texture or its supremacy? These are all astute questions. Let me recall the story that has let me to this life defining moment.

Like every Academy Award winning story, it started with a girl. Rachel and I were in Grade 12 when we got together. I wrote “Do you like me?” on a piece of scrap piece of paper and slide it across the table in English class. Rachel was into old school stuff, like flowers and porn from magazines. What could I say? She was my first love. We were so into each other, we even matched our outfits during prom. That’s when you know when you’re serious about one another. Everyone knows that love means a matching outfit, exactly like Sigmund and Roy.

She was the first girl I could open up to and we’d share with each other secrets and hopes for the future. I’ll never forget when she told me that she wanted to go to a different university than the one I was going to. We were building Lego Bionicles in my living room when she tried to play off mentioning that she wanted to go out of province for school. I was so upset, I broke all of the Bionicles we had built in a fit of passion. After she wiped my tears, we agreed that we would try make it work long distance.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. She began answer less and less to my frequent texts and our phone conversations went from an average of an hour and 45 minutes to 56 minutes. I knew something was wrong, the science was there. There were days when I didn’t even know what she had for lunch. Ridiculous? I know. I was beginning to understand the lyrics to Every Breath You Take on a visceral level.

When we had gotten home for Thanksgiving, Rachel sent me a text saying “It’s not u, its me but we shuld break up”. I began to weep in the Tim Horton’s parking lot. How could she do this to me? It was like she wasn’t even trying to make the long distance work. So I did what anyone would have done in my situation: I doubled down on fibre.

Beans for breakfast. Oats for lunch. Corn and bran-bites for dinner. I ate my strict diet of a 300% recommend fibre allowance for two day and held in all my bowel movements. There were moments where I was weak and would give anything to shit even just a little bit. But I didn’t let up, I held in all the feces. Thinking about Rachel’s smug face and poor choice in Lego drove me forward. The night before Thanksgiving Monday, I popped a laxative and went to sleep with my tummy turning.

In the morning, I had my mom drive me to Rachel’s place. I was squirming in my seat to shit, I had beads of sweat rolling down my cheeks. When we arrived, I stumbled out onto her lawn, took a deep breath and dropped my trousers. A volcanic eruption blew from my anus and I began to shit with such force, I think I might have hovered for a second. I closed my eyes and let nature take its course.
While my mom just sat oblivious in the car with Hall and Oates playing while scrolling on her Blackberry, I heard children screaming along the street, Rachel howling at me to stop. Her mother had burst into tears while her father was looking for a weapon to remove me off the property with. But it was too late.

Rachel’s lawn looked like the first snowfall of the season - expect with shit. The smell was so foul, I had even began to puke on her lawn. Or maybe I was puking from the malnourishment of my fibre diet. Was there blood in my shit and vomit? It didn’t matter. The deed was done. Police sirens in the background began to blare. I ran to my mom’s car and begged her to unlock it so we could get away from the police. She rolled down the window a bit and told me she wasn’t getting into another police chase again, those days were over. I surrendered to the police, all while having a smug look on my face.

Now I’m not allowed within 100 metres of elementary schools but my god, it was worth every bit of satisfaction. Both from the relief of the dump and getting back at Rachel.