The Best Memories In Life Involve Feces

Here’s a fun story straight out of my under 25 year old self. You know, at least the parts that I could recollect… most of them feel blurry and drowned in a lot of glug glug.

So, this one time in Chennai, India we were at one of our epic house parties.

Wait, hold it right there! Chennai parties?!

Yes Chennai parties are WAY more lit than you think bro.

Anyway, back to the story at hand. A few close friends X, Y, Z and I are chilling together — significantly intoxicated. We’ve noticed that X has been missing for a while. A good hour or so.

“Troops, it’s time to find the missing boy!” I said.

So we set out to search for brother X. Searched the bedrooms, searched the living room, searched the garden, even the bathroom lights were off, nothing on the terrace. He’s literally nowhere to be found. Y,Z and I were dumbfounded.

Now, out of intuition, Z decides to check the bathrooms just once more. He creaks open one of the bathroom doors slowly and hits the lights.

And before you know it, Z comes screaming out!!!

“Mother Mary and Sweet Baby Jesus! Someone get me a god damn cross to hold on to!” he cries!

Y and I decided to go check out the scene that SO petrified Z.

As we peer in, we see X, sitting pants down, elbow to knee with fist supporting his face and he’s taking a dump. Except that…

X isn’t really sitting on the toilet…

He’s sitting on what resembles a toilet…

*drum roll*

A GOD DAMN BUCKET!

Yes, that’s right. A GOD DAMN BUCKET. At this point, we’re all calling out to X from what we perceive as a safe yet not-as-revolting distance from the dude.

X simply looks up at us, narrows his eyes and says

“Hold on guys, I’m almost… done...”

He proceeds to pull up his pants, pretends to flush and walks the fuck out like nothing’s happened.

Now Y,Z and I are drawing straws in our heads as to what to do next. Finally, Y and Z, bastards that they are, decide to play the age card and say “Harish man, you’re the oldest, go check the bucket.”

mch…

After much protest which ended up futile, I did tip toe towards the bucket and peek in. Thankfully, it turned out, that the coast was clear.

However the image of your friend sitting pants down on a bucket is un-fucking-forgettable.

The image below right here will never be the same to me.

Till this date, we’re thinking of tattooing a bucket on X while he’s asleep.

So my dear Medium readers, I hope you’ve had a wonderful time vicariously suffering the image of a dude sitting butt-ass naked on a bucket.

Thank you.

~“. _^_ “~
~“ (____) ”~
~“(______) ”~
“ (________) ”~
(____________) ”