"Fudge Wars"

I wrote this story in February of 2009 while working at the 305th APS at McGuire AFB New Jersey. It's so bad and embarrassing that I wasn't planning on sending it out until the day I left McGuire, but then I just figured...fuck it. This is true life, real drama, and written exactly how it happened. It's Rated R, and once you get to Chapter 2, it's down-right disgusting. I apologize now for what you are about to read.


....a long time ago, in an aerial port far, far away...


"Fudge Wars"

There are many instances in a person's life they wish they could forget or
wish never happened. It could be something embarrassing, tragic, or just
hitting rock bottom. Some of the most painful moments you could ever encounter
often involve other people. Either because they were hurt too, or because
they SAW what happened to you and now you feel shitty for multiple reasons.
You just want to get away, you want to be alone, and you hope you have a
friend who can keep a secret. What happened to me recently didn't involve
anyone else but myself, and no one would have ever known what took place
without this story I'm writing now.
What happened to me could have easily been the worst moment of my entire
life...if someone actually saw me. Have you ever heard about a guy who was
caught jerking off in broad day light? Well, that would never happen to me
because I've been deployed multiple times and that makes me a jerk-off ninja
that can't be caught. But now...I could relate.


Chapter 1- "Join me in the Dark Side."

So there I was...it was a cold February night, and for some damn reason, I was
working 12 hour night shift for 3 weeks at the 305th Aerial Port even though I
was moving overseas in just 6 weeks. I was driving a 60K aircraft loader back and forth
loading a 747. While waiting to drop off my 2nd load at the plane, I realized
I had my own load brewing in my pants I had to drop off too. The 5 slices of
cheap ass Domino's I had just a short time ago had caught up with me, and a
bathroom was nowhere in sight. I was parked in the middle of the flight line
with nowhere to go. I couldn't leave the K-Loader, and I couldn't drive it to
a bathroom because I was next to be loaded. I started to panic. What am I
gonna do? My stomach is getting worse and worse and the people working the
plane are only getting slower and slower.

I get out of the 60K and begin pacing back and forth. It was FREEZING outside, and me
thinking more about how cold it was and all the shivering took my mind off the
turtle head that was sticking out of my ass for a few moments, but it wasn't
long enough. So I begin contemplating the idea of shitting on the flight line.
It was dark, I had a big K-Loader to squat behind and no one would see me. I
walked around the loader looking for any type of paper I could use to wipe my
ass. Nothing. I look inside the cab for something. Nothing. It was the ONE
fucking time no one left trash in there. I then stare at the placards and manifests attached
to the pallets for a few seconds. "Hmm...maybe." But I decided against it. I
was getting desperate. I started pacing back and forth faster and faster while
praying to St. Charmin, the patron saint of uncontrollable bowel movements, "Please let me live."


Could you imagine driving on the flight line and seeing a huge pile of shit
just laying there? What would you think? I don't know, but someone was about
to find out. Before resorting to this, I decided to take a piss first and see
if that would relieve some tension from my stomach and hopefully the feeling
of having to shit would go away. I go behind the loader and start pissing on
the flight line and immediately regret my decision. I realize that it is
nearly impossible to free your body of urine with a clenched butt cheek. I had
to release the pressure holding my ass together to piss, and doing this made
the shit want to come out even more. I was pissing in squirts. Shooting out
piss, clenching my ass. Shooting out piss, clenching my ass. Shooting out
piss, clenching my ass. There was a LOT going on here. And every time I let
out a little piss, the mud pie running down my stomach was getting closer and
closer to my ass hole. I had to stop all pissing operations immediately.

I get back in the 60K to load the plane and I feel a LITTLE better, but I
wasn't out of the woods yet. I still had to shit, but I think I'm gonna make
it. When I got done, I floor it back to the docks to park the 60K. I parked
crooked, and well past where I should have stopped, but fuck it. I get out
and power-walk inside to the warehouse. Inside I see about 8 people building
pallets. I slow my walk down because I don't want them to think, "Hey I think
that guy is about to shit his pants!" I try to look calm and cool, but it's
hard to do that when you're sweating and squeezing your ass together so hard
that you could bend a frying pan in half. As I open the door to go down the
hallway to the bathroom, I start ripping off everything I had on and threw it
on the ground. But then it hit me...my body just told me, "T-Minus 10 Seconds"
before shit comes shooting out whether I want it to or not. I grab the
bathroom door and swing it open so fast that I almost took it off it's hinges.
I start pulling my pants down while they're still buttoned and I'm
not even over the toilet yet.  I haven't done that since the first time I was
about to get laid. And just like back then, this too was about to get messy in
all the wrong places.

T-Minus 3 Seconds. My anus begins opening by itself, and a tsunami of ass
garbage is about to be released. I'm in the squatting position, but not yet
fully sitting down as the shit comes shooting out. I sit down on the seat, and
let out a huge sigh of relief. Finally. I made it. I didn't even care that
there wasn't any toilet paper on the seat and that I now probably just got
AIDS, I was just happy. It was over!...or so I thought. I look down to my boxers and pants...
and see chunks of shit...everywhere.

Horror. Absolute horror. I seriously just shit myself. I'm 27 years old, and I
have boxers full of shit in them. I've had a lot of close calls in my time,
but never in my life after moving from Huggies to Fruit of the Loom when I was
3, have I ever shat myself. And you know what the crazy thing is?
This isn't even the worst part of the story. It was just the beginning.



Chapter 2- "Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."

I really wish, "boxers full of crap" was my only problem that day. But the
lack of toilet paper and the fact that my boxers weren't the only thing with
shit on them, made my situation a lot worse than I thought. I look to the left
and see shit smeared underneath my thigh. My shit didn't just hit the inside
of the toilet, but the OUTSIDE as well, and I SAT on it! I was sitting on a
shitty toilet with shitty thighs. I look at the toilet paper to my right and
see how there MIGHT be enough TP to cover the mess around my asshole, but not
my leg, toilet, and underwear. I panicked. This wasn't just "bad luck", or me
catching karma, or any kind of explainable circumstance of why the hell this
was happening, this was the ELEVENTH Plague of Egypt happening to JUST me here
in New Jersey. 

I started thinking to myself, "Ok, so what am I gonna do now? I got poopy
thighs, poopy boxers, and a really poopy ass with just a limited amount of
toilet paper." I start wiping my ass first, and before I could finish, I ran
out of toilet paper. I stand up and look over at the next stall and see that there's an extra roll of TP. I start reaching for it underneath the side wall, but I couldn't reach 
it. I bend down all the way and try to crawl under and get to it, but I
couldn't do it. As I'm trying this, mind you, I have no boxers or pants on and
the shit in my boxers is moving around getting on more and more places. I'm on
all fours in a bathroom stall reaching for an olive branch that is fabulous
toilet paper in the next stall but I can't grab it. So I had to make one of
the hardest decisions of my life. Like, a hundred times harder than Bret
Michaels when he had to decide which girl had to leave on Rock of Love. I had
to decide whether to run over to the stall next to me with my poopy ass
hanging out and risk being seen, or, NOT doing that.

But the thing was, I HAD to do this. There wasn't a choice.
It was the only option I had.

I started to gather myself together to make the toughest, most embarrassing, 5
second hop of my life. But just as I was about to do the biggest walk of shame
ever, 3 guys come strolling in the bathroom. I was THAT close from being seen
and having my head spontaneously combust from having no idea what to say or
do.
One guy went to piss, and the other two sat down at the stall on either side
of me. Great. I KNOW they could smell the shit in my boxers. It's hard to
explain, but you can tell the difference in smell between shit inside a
toilet, and a shit pile NOT in a toilet. One guy took his dump quick and
left, but the other guy to my right was in it for the long haul. I think he
was the kind that wanted to be alone and was waiting for me to finish up so
that he could finish privately. Well sorry amigo, but today I'm winning that
challenge. I got ALLLLL night.

I waited a good 20 minutes for that guy to finish. He left and I was all alone
in the bathroom again. I HAD to get that other roll of toilet paper. I stopped
moving and breathing just to try and hear if someone was walking down the
hallway. I didn't hear anything so I made my move. I bunny hopped over to the
next stall with my sloppy ass bouncing around and pants around my ankles. I
grabbed the roll, got back to my stall, and slammed the door shut. I made it.
No one saw me. I never sweated so much from just 5 seconds of physical
activity before but thank God it was over. I just avoided being the reason why
someone had to have a lifetime of therapy because of what they saw.

After cleaning the rest of my ass off, my next concern was cleaning the shit
off the toilet seat so I'd have a place to sit and could take my boots
and pants off just to get to my boxers and throw them out. I never thought
that kind of masterplan would ever enter my head at any point during my military career, but here we are. So anyway...Now, what
happened next is the moment in my life when I hit rock bottom. February 26th,
215am... I was standing up and tearing off toilet paper from the
roll...and...I...I...I dropped the roll in the toilet.      (I...I died)     Yup. It happened. I instantly got filled with emotion. My heart
skipped a beat. My stomach sank. I was on the verge of tears. I actually said
outloud in a muttering voice, "I can't believe this is happening." Have you
ever been part of a string incidents so bad that the whole situation starts to
turn funny? Yeah...that didn't happen.

I was staring at the wet toilet paper with watery eyes as if I was looking at
my best friend dying that just got shot while storming the beaches of Normandy.
But I had to regroup and act fast. I reached in that disgusting toilet and
pulled out the toilet paper. About 80 percent of the roll was wet, so SOME was
usable, and I made the most of it. I cleaned off the seat and sat down and
took my boots off. I was praying no one would walk in because from the
bathroom mirror you could see people's feet in the stalls, and what the hell
are they gonna think when they see someone's boots are off? I don't know. I
didn't wanna know. So quickly I got my boots and pants off and finally take
my dirty diapers off. I put my pants back on and it immediately felt really
weird going commando, especially in a military uniform. I felt like a
stripper...a really, really, DIRTY stripper. After putting everything back on,
I exited the stall and made a mad dash for the trash can to throw my underwear
away. It's over. Yes! I did it! All I had to do then was clean my hands and
whole arm thoroughly because ya, there was shit on there...everywhere, I'm not
even gonna lie.

I walked over to the dispatch office and see that EVERYONE is there. Not just
the guys I work with in Ramp, but from ALL the sections at the 305th Aerial Port.
They just all decided to hang out together at that very moment. They're all
starring at me because they were wondering where I was. I immediately get very
nervous because I'm wondering if any of these people knew what was going
on with me since I was gone a good hour in that shit hole...literally.  But
nobody mentioned anything. Everyone started telling bullshit stories about
other co-workers and everything seemed to be back to normal, but I still
wanted to get out of there. There weren't any seats left so I was just standing
there with shitty pants on praying no one could smell me, and for the first time
in my life I WANTED to go outside and do some work. So I walk out in the
warehouse and started sweeping the floor. I've spent my whole career trying to
get OUT of pointless cleaning, but what did it take to finally get that
warehouse floor at McGuire Air Force Base spotless?...the fact that no one wants
to smell you when you're going commando in camouflage.



(3 years later at another base, I sent this story to a co-worker of mine I
didn't know previously was at McGuire AFB too. He came to tears from laughter
while reading this and repeatedly kept saying, "I was there! I was fucking
there!" He worked in the warehouse the night it happened and told me that for
the longest time, people there kept wondering who the hell took a dump in the trash-can
because it stunk for days.)