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 orwish never happened. It could be something embarrassing, tragic, or justhitting rock bottom. Some of the most painful moments you could ever encounteroften involve other people. Either because they were hurt too, or becausethey 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 afriend who can keep a secret. What happened to me recently didn't involveanyone else but myself, and no one would have ever known what took placewithout this story I'm writing now.What happened to me could have easily been the worst moment of my entirelife...if someone actually saw me. Have you ever heard about a guy who wascaught jerking off in broad day light? Well, that would never happen to mebecause I've been deployed multiple times and that makes me a jerk-off ninjathat 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 wasworking 12 hour night shift for 3 weeks at the 305th Aerial Port even though Iwas moving overseas in just 6 weeks. I was driving a 60K aircraft loader back and forthloading a 747. While waiting to drop off my 2nd load at the plane, I realizedI had my own load brewing in my pants I had to drop off too. The 5 slices ofcheap ass Domino's I had just a short time ago had caught up with me, and abathroom was nowhere in sight. I was parked in the middle of the flight linewith nowhere to go. I couldn't leave the K-Loader, and I couldn't drive it toa bathroom because I was next to be loaded. I started to panic. What am Igonna do? My stomach is getting worse and worse and the people working theplane are only getting slower and slower.I get out of the 60K and begin pacing back and forth. It was FREEZING outside, and methinking more about how cold it was and all the shivering took my mind off theturtle head that was sticking out of my ass for a few moments but it wasn'tlong 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. Iwalked around the loader looking for any type of paper I could use to wipe myass. Nothing. I look inside the cab for something. Nothing. It was the ONEfucking time no one left trash in there. I then stare at the placards attachedto the pallets for a few seconds. "Hmm...maybe." But I decided against it. Iwas getting desperate. I started pacing back and forth faster and faster whilepraying to St. Charmin, the patron saint of uncontrollable bowel movements.Could you imagine driving on the flight line and seeing a huge pile of shitjust laying there? What would you think? I don't know, but someone was aboutto find out. Before resorting to this, I decided to take a piss first and seeif that would relieve some tension from my stomach and hopefully the feelingof having to shit would go away. I go behind the loader and start pissing onthe flight line and immediately regret my decision. I realize that it isnearly impossible to free your body of urine with a clenched butt cheek. I hadto release the pressure holding my ass together to piss, and doing this madethe shit want to come out even more. I was pissing in squirts. Shooting outpiss, clenching my ass. Shooting out piss, clenching my ass. Shooting outpiss, clenching my ass. There was a LOT going on here. And every time I letout a little piss, the mud pie running down my stomach was getting closer andcloser 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 Iwasn't out of the woods yet. I still had to shit, but I think I'm gonna makeit. When I got done, I fly back to the docks to park the 60K. I parkedcrooked, and well past where I should have stopped, but fuck it. I get outand power-walk inside to the warehouse. In there I see about 8 people buildingpallets. I slow my walk down because I don't want them to think, "Hey I thinkthat guy is about to shit his pants!" I try to look calm and cool, but it'shard to do that when you're sweating and squeezing your ass together so hardthat you could bend a frying pan in half. As I open the door to go down thehallway to the bathroom, I start ripping off everything I had on and threw iton 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 thebathroom 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 buckled and I'mnot even over the toilet yet. I haven't done that since the first time I wasabout to get laid. And just like back then, this too was about to get messy inall the wrong places.T-Minus 3 Seconds. My anus begins opening by itself, and a tsunami of assgarbage is about to be released. I'm in the squatting position, but not yetfully sitting down as the shit comes shooting out. I sit down on the seat, andlet out a huge sigh of relief. Finally. I made it. I didn't even care thatthere wasn't any toilet paper on the seat and that I now probably just gotAIDS. I was 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 Ihave 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 was3, 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 thelack of toilet paper and the fact that my boxers weren't the only thing withshit on them, made my situation a lot worse than I thought. I look to the leftand see shit smeared underneath my thigh. My shit didn't just hit the insideof the toilet, but the OUTSIDE as well, and I SAT on it! I was sitting on ashitty toilet with shitty thighs. I look at the toilet paper to my right andsee how there MIGHT be enough TP to cover the mess around my asshole, but notmy leg, toilet, and underwear. I panicked. This wasn't just "bad luck", or mecatching karma, or any kind of explainable circumstance of why the hell thiswas happening, this was the ELEVENTH Plague of Egypt happening to JUST me herein New Jersey. This was God's wrath. Or maybe just one of His sick jokesagain. God's a mother fucker like that. I definitely won't forget this.Especially when I die and I'm at the pearly gates with St. Peter.I'm gonna tell him, "JC owes me big time. If you can get me a room with a viewfor the rest of eternity it'd be much appreciated my man. Tell the Big Manupstairs, "People don't forget.""I started thinking to myself, "Ok, so what am I gonna do now? I got poopythighs, poopy boxers, and a really poopy ass with just a limited amount oftoilet paper." I start wiping my ass first, and before I could finish, I ranout of toilet paper. I stand up and look over at the next stall and see that there's an extra roll of TPover there. I start reaching for it underneath the wall, but I couldn't grabit. I bend down all the way and try to crawl under and get to it, but Icouldn't do it. As I'm trying this, mind you, I have no boxers or pants on andthe shit in my boxers is moving around getting on more and more places. I'm onall fours in a bathroom stall reaching for an olive branch that is fabuloustoilet paper in the next stall but I can't grab it. So I had to make one ofthe hardest decisions of my life. Like, a hundred times harder than BretMichaels when he had to decide which girl had to leave on Rock of Love. I hadto decide whether to run over to the stall next to me with my poopy asshanging 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, 5second hop of my life. But just as I was about to do the biggest walk of shameever, 3 guys come strolling in the bathroom. I was THAT close from being seenand having my head spontaneously combust from having no idea what to say ordo.One guy went to piss, and the other two sat down at the stall on either sideof me. Great. I KNOW they could smell the shit in my boxers. It's hard toexplain, but you can tell the difference in smell between shit inside atoilet, than a shit pile NOT in a toilet. One guy took his dump quick andleft, but the other guy to my right was in it for the long haul. I think hewas the kind that wanted to be alone and was waiting for me to finish up sothat he could finish privately. Well sorry amigo, but today I'm winning thatchallenge. I got ALLLLL night.I waited a good 20 minutes for that guy to finish. He left and I was all alonein the bathroom again. I HAD to get that other roll of toilet paper. I stoppedmoving and breathing just to try and hear if someone was walking down thehallway. I didn't hear anything so I made my move. I bunny hopped over to thenext stall with my sloppy ass bouncing around and pants around my ankles. Igrabbed 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 physicalactivity before but thank God it was over. I just avoided being the reason whysomeone 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 shitoff the toilet seat so I'd have a place to sit and could take my bootsand pants off just to get to my boxers and throw them out. I never thoughtthat kind of masterplan would ever enter my head. But anyway...Now, whathappened 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 theroll...and...I...I...I dropped the roll in the toilet bowel. (dead. hugesigh) Yup. It happened. I instantly got filled with emotion. My heartskipped a beat. My stomach sank. I was on the verge of tears. I actually saidout loud in a muttering voice, "I can't believe this is happening." Have youever been part of a string incidents so bad that the whole situation starts toturn funny? Ya that didn't happen.I was staring at the wet toilet paper with watery eyes as if I was looking atmy best friend dying who just got shot while storming the beaches of Normandy.But I had to regroup and act fast. I reached in that disgusting toilet andpulled out the toilet paper. About 80 percent of the roll was wet, so SOME wasusable, and I made the most of it. I cleaned off the seat and sat down andtook my boots off. I was praying no one would walk in because from thebathroom mirror you could see people's feet in the stalls, and what the hellare they gonna think when they see someone's boots are off? I don't know. Ididn't wanna know. So quickly I got my boots and pants off and finally takemy dirty diapers off. I put my pants back on and it immediately felt reallyweird going commando, especially in a military uniform. I felt like astripper...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 underwearaway. It's over. Yes! I did it! All I had to do then was clean my hands andwhole arm thoroughly because ya, there was shit on there...everywhere, I'm noteven gonna lie.I walked over to the dispatch office and see that EVERYONE is there. Not justthe guys I work with in Ramp, but from ALL the sections at the 305th Port.They just all decided to hang out together at that very moment. They're allstarring at me because they were wondering where I was. I immediately get verynervous because I'm wondering if any of these people knew what was just goingon with me since I was gone a good hour in that shit hole...literally. Butnobody mentioned anything. Everyone started telling bullshit stories aboutother co-workers and everything seemed to be back to normal, but I stillwanted to get out of there. There weren't any seats left so I was just standingthere with shitty pants on praying no one could smell me, and for the first timein my life I WANTED to go outside and do some work. So I walk out in thewarehouse and started sweeping the floor. I've spent my whole career trying toget OUT of pointless cleaning, but what did it take to finally get thatwarehouse floor at McGuire Air Force Base spotless?...the fact that no one wantsto 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 Ididn't know previously was at McGuire AFB too. He came to tears from laughterwhile reading this and repeatedly kept saying, "I was there! I was fuckingthere!" He worked in the warehouse the night it happened and told me that forthe longest time, people there kept wondering who took a dump in the trash canbecause it stunk for days.)