DESCRIPTION:
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Hey John, I think you're cool. You're just misunderstood.
Why don't you share some stories from your childhood?
All right, that would be good.
I'll share a story from my childhood.

When I was around 13 years old, my family said,
"Come on John, we're going to a baseball game."
I needed to defecate, but there wasn't time for that.
Everyone wanted to leave so we wouldn't be late for the game.
It was about a ten-minute drive.
We got to our local baseball park, found some seats,
and watched men play baseball. Actually, slo-pitch was the name of this game,
but it's all baseball to me.

After a short while, I said to my family,
"I have to go to the bathroom."
I walked to the bathroom, and there was a long lineup to get inside.
Finally, I got inside, and I saw there were no doors on the stalls.

I sat down and tried to defecate,
but there were a whole bunch of men standing there looking at me,
probably thinking, "Fuck, I'm full of beer and gotta piss. Hurry up and shit, kid."
I tried to shit, but I couldn't without any privacy.
So, I grabbed some toilet paper, wiped my butt, pretending I had defecated,
and hussled out of that bathroom.
I sat back down with my family, and continued to watch the game.

I'd never cared about baseball before, but at this game, inside my head,
I cheered like I've never cheered for anything ever before.
"Strike him out! Catch the ball!" I wanted that game over.
I squeezed my butt cheeks together.
I'm not religious, but I prayed for that game to end.

Finally, it ended. We got up and walked through the parking lot towards the family car.
Unfortunately, my butt could not hold in the shit any longer. I shat my pants.
I could feel a ball of shit rolling down my leg as I walked. I timed it perfectly,
and kicked the ball of shit away from me
as soon as it reach the bottom of my pants.
I watched that little ball of shit roll under a car.

I thought to myself, "Wow, I had been clenching my butt so hard,
I must have turned all that shit into one tight little ball."
But, nope. I could feel that there was still a lot of shit inside my underwear.
I sat in the back seat of the car and we drove away.
I rolled down the window to air out the car.

In the car on the way home, my stepfather said, "Who farted?"
I said, "I did. I'm sorry."
I knew that was a lie. I didn't fart. I shat my pants.
We got home and I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up. I was a mess.
There was shit all over my butt and down my legs.
I got all cleaned up, washed the shit off my clothes,
and no one found out I shat my pants.
So, there you have it. A story from my childhood.