From: Bryce Calhoun <
br...@ucla.edu>
Newsgroups: alt.tasteless
Subject: REPOST: Fecal George
Date: 20 Dec 1995 19:25:30 GMT
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EDITOR'S NOTE: *holding hand to mouth in an attempt to contain forthcoming spray
o' chunder* This tale is most likely the epitome of disgusting, heinous, vulgar,
disgusting, and tasteless "fare." Heh. I love it.
From:
khov...@b30news.b30.ingr.com (Ken Hovanes)
Newsgroups: alt.tasteless
Subject: Classic Alt.Tasteless
Date: 3 Feb 1995 14:28:18 -0600
Organization: Ed's Dingo Farm
Lines: 514
FECAL GEORGE
----- ------
PRELUDE
-------
During my freshman year at Purdue, some idiot living on my floor of
our residence hall foolishly stated that he would allow his head to
be shaved for $100 -- right down to the scalp. A few of the guys on
the floor organized a collection process and quickly raised the money.
The event became what we termed "a floor function" and guests were
invited to attend. The whole thing took place one evening around
7 o'clock or so with about 30 guests in attendance. It was a real
popular floor function and no real harm was done to anyones image or
pride. But that's not the story.
Here's the story:
THE SETUP
--- -----
About a year later, I was a sophomore living on that same floor and
we starting talking about tasteless things we'd do if the money was
right. Some guy mentions that the previous year we had a great floor
function wherein a floor member shaved his head (allowed it to be
shaved, actually) for $100. Other guys stated that there's no way in
hell they'd shave their head for a scant $100; it would take hundreds
or thousands of dollars for them to do it. Then some guy (me!) says,
"What would it take for you to eat a spoonful of shit?" Huge sums of
money were now being discussed for this tasteless feat. A million dollars
was a real common figure. So my friend, George, decides to open his
big, stupid mouth (opps! foreshadowing). George says something along
the lines of, "I'd never let somebody shave my head but I'd probably
eat a spoonful of shit for $50." Really, George? $50?? Are you
serious?
LOGISTICAL MATTERS
---------- -------
Yep, George was serious. And before George had a chance to change his
mind, the fund raising gears were set in motion. Word went out that
another floor function was being planned for next week sometime. A
"lottery" or sorts was held. (The Feces Lottery was my idea. We were
faced with two problems: we didn't have $50 for George and we didn't have
any shit for him to eat. I solved both problems in one brilliant
moment. :-) For the low, low price of just $1, you could buy one chance
at winning the Feces Lottery. (For $5, you got 6 chances.) After we had
the $50 in hand, we placed the names of the contributors in a hat
(actually it was a trash can). We drew out 2 names. One of the
"winners" declined his prize and we drew another name. We now had our
two lottery winners and, you guessed it, those two winners got to be the
Feces Donors.)
George made us agree that the feces in question had to be of a somewhat
"normal" variety. Nothing green and runny, no diarrhea, nothing with
high corn-content, ... standard requests for this sort of thing, I guess.
That's why we had two lottery winners; we decided to give George his
choice. We told the lottery winners they couldn't do things like eat a
bunch of prunes, have Taco Bell for five days straight, etc. This was,
after all, a floor function and we would to keep things friendly.
The day before the floor function was to take place, the two lottery
winners were escorted from their rooms (one at a time) by part of the
fund raising committee. Each was sent into a bathroom that had been
certified "feces free" with only a medium-sized cup (we had to be sure
that no illegal feces made it to the big event). After each of the
winners completed his assigned task and departed the bathroom, the cup
was sealed and placed into the refrigerator of the most honest guy living
on the floor for overnight safe-keeping. [BTW, one of the winners had
a little trouble on his first trip to the bathroom and ended up having
to give it a second try a couple of ours later. He came through like a
real trooper the second time around.
]
THE STAGE IS SET
--- ----- -- ---
Although attendance was strictly by invitation only, we had a huge
crowd -- well over 100. George was escorted into the elevator lobby
(where all of our floor functions took place) as if he was a king. The
crowd shouted and cheered upon his entrance. George was placed center
stage complete with homemade bib and a big glass of water. [He was
sober, upon insistence of the fund raising committee.] After giving
George about 5 minutes to sweat in front of the crowd, The Feces Fetcher
made his way into the lobby - with one cup in each hand held proudly
over his head. The crowd went wild. The chants of GEORGE!! GEORGE!!
GEORGE!! GEORGE!! reached a deafening level. The spoon (a soup spoon!)
was brought forward by another member of the fund raising committee.
In accordance with the rules, the two cups of feces were presented to
George for his perusal and, ultimately, his decision. [This is where
I became somewhat concerned about George -- about his physical well
being, not his mental well being. Mentally, I knew he was already
scarred for life and nothing could change that now. I thought if he
could live until morning we could get him home to his parents at the
end of the semester and they could deal with the long-term mental damage.]
After a hesitation of about 10 seconds [I thought he was going to pass
out], George, pale-faced and covered with sweat, selected the cup on
his left. The crowd roared again: GEORGE!! GEORGE!! GEORGE!! GEORGE!!
Still in accordance with the rules, The Feces Fetcher spooned up a nice
helping for George. (The rules stated that this helping would be a
"healthy spoonful" but not a "heaping spoonful.") The spoon was then
handed to George, who was still wearing his bib and still had his big
glass of water in his other hand. (The rules stated that George had to
do the following in order to get his $50 reward: insert spoon w/ feces
into mouth, remove spoon from mouth clean of feces, show the crowd the
clean spoon, swallow feces so as to remove it from mouth, display empty
mouth to crowd by sticking out tongue and saying "awwww" like you do at
the doctor's office. After that he could then eat or drink as he wished.
He also had to keep it down for at least 10 minutes -- we figured after
10 minutes if he wanted to send it back through his mouth the other way,
that was fine with us, but he didn't get any extra money for it.)
George then raised the spoon w/ feces up to eye level at arms length from
his body. He made a couple of wide sweeping arcs in front of his body with
the spoon so that everyone in the crowd could get a good look at the winning
feces. [It was at this point that I could tell George *really* didn't want
to go through with this thing. He was wondering about the consistency.
"Will it be like pudding or more like ... what? Will I notice the smell?
How much of it will get stuck between by teeth? Will I have bad breath the
rest of the night. Am I going to double over and throw up saliva covered
human feces in front of all these people who don't really even know me?
How did I get myself into this mess? Can I possibly get out of this?"
Well, George took a long, hard look at the crowd and knew that there was
simply no way to back down. I almost felt sorry for the guy. Just thinking
of what he was about to do actually made my stomach queasy and my knees a
little bit weak -- and I used to deliver roadkill to my "friends" back when
I was in high school.]
After everyone had a good look at the feces covered spoon, George held it
straight in front of his face, about a foot from the tip of his nose. He
took a deep breath and brought the spoon toward his opened mouth -- and
stopped. The spoon went back to being a foot from the tip of his nose and
his eyes sort of rolled up toward the top of his head. [I thought he was
gone for sure...] He then steadied himself, took another deep breath,
forced the spoon into his mouth, (flash! flash! flash! from all the cameras
in the lobby) closed his mouth and his eyes, and then withdrew a nice, clean
soup spoon from his mouth. We all held our breath and just watched. He
inhaled more air through his nose and swallowed hard. [I'm sure I imagined
it, but I thought I heard the lump go down -- just like in the cartoons.]
Then in one instant, his eyes opened, his mouth opened, his tongue stuck
out of his mouth and he rolled his head back so we could see inside his mouth.
8-(>) It was empty. George then took another deep breath and gulped down
the entire glass of water. Two people in the crowd got sick and had to go
outside. George made his way down to the bathroom where he had toothbrush
and toothpaste waiting.
THE EPILOGUE
--- --------
My friends and I made our way back to our end of the floor. We couldn't
really believe that he had done it -- and only for $50, we said. What an
idiot, we said. We were then discussing whether or not he would get sick
before morning. Or would he kill himself tonight while we slept? Would he
ever do anything that stupid again? Would he ever eat shit again for $50?
Certainly not, we decided. We could tell it had been a traumatic experience
for him. And we knew he'd never be the same.
Then as four or five of us are standing around talking outside our rooms,
George comes out of the bathroom and starts walking toward us (his room was
at the other end of the floor). He comes down and leans up against the wall
next to us. Everyone is speechless. Silence. Then I finally say, "George,
I can't believe ..."
But I'm cutoff in mid-sentence as George belches (BUURRP!) and says, "Oh,
excuse me."
That was all I could take. I had to go in my room and sit down for a few
minutes. I'm just glad I couldn't smell it.
