The Foolproof Plan
As a child, I was a genius. I don’t mean that I was good at Lego’s or something like that. I was a certified prodigy. I feel like I’m being modest when I say that. You know that song “Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better?” From what I understand, it was written about my youthful genius and extreme talents.
Unfortunately, every Superman has his Kryptonite. As hard as that statement may be for you to believe, this next one is going to be even more unbelievable. My weaknesses were bathroom related. Allow me to explain. First of all, I suffer from a severe case of Bladdoria. This is the disease that I have created to explain and help justify my severe case of shy bladder. My case of this horrible disease is soooo devastating that if I think you’re thinking of me emptying the wizard’s bag of tricks, I would stand in front of the toilet for hours on end with no success. Remember, since this is an extremely serious medical condition, you would be a huge asshole if you even thought about making fun of me.
There’s more to my bathroom woes than just my heartbreaking pee pee problems. This second issue is what we will be focusing on today. I also suffer from a crippling fear of publicly acknowledged bowel movements. It’s a similar idea to the shy bladder disease whereas if I think someone knows I’m going, there’s no way I can go. With the amount of time I spend emptying the dump trucks, there’s no way I’d be able to go undetected. Life without Jason is like life without Frosted Flakes; it’s not sugar coated, there’s no cartoon tiger to hang out with and it’s definitely not grrrrrrreat!
Now that you have a little background, let’s set the scene. Rewind a few decades to when sucking your thumb was still kind of cool. I’m your average first grade student, except I’m not learning the alphabet for the first time and watching Sesame Street. As I explained earlier, I was a direct descendant of an Albert Einstein/Steven Hawking hybrid.
School was starting to bore me. Nothing cool had happened since this asshole kid Muhammad had thrown up all over himself during the school play the year before. Every day was the same regurgitated slop of lunches, playgrounds and story time. The only time you’d have any variety would be when you were thrown a curveball and served a green hot dog at lunch. Memo to lunch staff: the excuse that it’s green because it’s a St. Patty’s Day dog doesn’t even work on an average first grader and it especially doesn’t work in the middle of November.
Although my hot dog sensor was working well, I was facing the same problem everyday. Whether it was hot, cold, sunny, snowing, raining or squalling, I always felt the urge to release the hounds during story time. Now most of the other kids had the ability to ignore the urge to go and focus on the fun story the teacher was telling. However, hearing about Sparkle Spots the Dalmation climbing up a fire ladder didn’t exactly excite me. After all, I had just finished writing my thesis on the extinction of the dinosaurs the night before.
This urge would never just go away. It followed me around all day until I got home. After story time, while all the other kids were smashing different shaped blocks together, I would spend the majority of the school day running in place on my tiptoes and giving myself continuous, alternating spankings with each hand while whispering “no no poo poo.” I was living in pain and fear everyday and I couldn’t deal with it anymore. This had to change and I needed to come up with something as soon as possible.
Then it hit me. I can’t believe it took me this long to come up with this! The next time I had to poo during story time, I would just go in my pants! This way, no one would have any idea that I was going and nobody would know that I even went! This had to be the greatest idea since the creation of VHS tapes!
Now let’s get something straight here. The goal of my plan was to be able to successfully poo my pants while going completely undetected. This plan was a failure if anyone had any idea. The goal was not to be sent home from school or anything like that. That would just be an embarrassment. I was just looking for a peaceful way to go in secret everyday.
The day that I finally created my masterpiece of a plan, I was walking on sunshine and, gosh darn it, it really did feel good! Normally I took the bus home, but that day I was so excited when I got out of school that I accidentally ran right past it. When I finally realized what I had done, my bus was gone. I was stuck running all the way home and I didn’t even care. Well, I kind of cared. There was some crying involved, but we’ll just leave that part out. When I finally got home, my mom was pissed.
“Where have you been!?! You were supposed to be home over an hour ago!! I was worried sick!! Explain yourself, young man!!”
“SHUSH!” I screamed. “None of this matters! I have come up with the greatest idea of all time! A foolproof plan, if you will. After tomorrow, I will be paraded around on people’s shoulders and recognized as a national hero! The days of this family living in a one bedroom shack made out of supplies from left over bird nests are long gone!”
At the time, we actually lived in a reasonable three bedroom duplex.
“And what might this little plan of yours be?”
“Tomorrow,” I answered. “Tomorrow, during story time, when I feel like I have to go makey makeys, I am going to go in my pants. No one will have any clue that I’m going and no one will know after I have gone! This is foolproof! How did I not think of this before? I’ve got to…”
“That’s actually a really bad idea,” interrupted my mom. “You…”
“SHUT UP! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND SCIENCE!!”
All my dad could manage to say was “fuck.” I was pretty sure he was blown away by the genius of the plan and was wondering why he couldn’t have come up with it years earlier. I was convinced my mom argued against my plan because she hated the fact that I used the term “makey makey.” She had told me numerous times to never say it again because it really annoyed her. Yeah right, like I would stop when you’re providing me with ammunition.
After my encouraging family meeting, I was ready to roll. I started to prepare for my big day. First I wrote letters to the president and NASA to inform them of this scientific breakthrough. I promised them that I wouldn’t let the country down and told them that I couldn’t wait for my Congressional medal of honor. I went to the kitchen and poured a couple raw eggs into a cup and chugged it. I did three pull-ups because that’s all i could do. I took three chewable Flintstone vitamins and swallowed them down with a shot of whiskey. I didn’t even chew the vitamins. I wrote out my will for the fuck of it. Then I got into bed at 6:30 with cucumbers covering my eyes in order to be well rested for the mission at hand. I had no idea what the cucumbers were supposed to do though, I just remembered seeing them in some movie. However, I couldn’t fall asleep and it didn’t seem like the cucumbers were doing anything at all. The only difference that I could notice was that I now smelled like vegetables.
The next morning I woke up feeling like P. Diddy. Remember, this is before P. Diddy existed and probably before Ke$ha was even born. They’re both huge posers. For the first time in my life, I was really excited to get to school that day. Like I did on other important days, I wore my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles jumpsuit to school. As I walked into school, I kissed my fist, gave a peace sign to the sky and said “one man’s dream is another man’s reality.” I proceeded to strut down the hall to my classroom.
The day started out like any other day at school. I made fun of a girl for wearing her snow suit, answered every question that the teacher asked correctly and set a new record in gym class for the fastest time a first grader had ever run the mile. I dropped a couple cryptic hints throughout the day about my impending plan like “when the clock strikes noon, I’ll go boom boom,” and “if the story’s a hit, it’s time to shit,” to some kids who had no idea what cryptic even meant. Story time would be here in no time.
“Alright children, gather ’round. Gather, gather, yes, yes, gather.” Mrs. Waldo-Atkins was kind of a weirdo. The way that she talked creeped me out. The only information she would share with the class was that she liked to sew and her favorite movie was Bambi.
“Yes, yes my children, gather ’round. Oooh yes, oooh yes, it’s story time, yes indeed it is.”
This is perfect timing, I thought. I had to go pretty bad. I was so excited that it made me have to go even more. Mrs. Waldo-Whatever Her Name Was started to read.
“Today, my children, yes, today we will be reading one of my favorites. This is a story called, ooooh yes, it is WONDERFUL. This story is called “The Duck Who Swam Home!” Oh my word, my lord, my GOD! Oh my man! Let us begin!”
I doubt that this lady had ever been given a mental evaluation. There’s no way she would ever be found fit to interact with humans, let alone teach children. She began to read and I tuned it out, preparing myself to live out my dreams. The moment had arrived. Michael Jackson, This Is It.
“The ducky swam to the left. Splash splash! Plop plop!”
Splash splash plop plop is right. I had done it! A lot more had come out than what I had originally planned, but mission accomplished nonetheless. As I started to revel in my greatness, my moment of joy turned on me like Benedict Arnold.
“Ewww! Stinky!” yelled one of the first responders to the scene. The smell started to circulate around the room.
“Oh my God! My eyes! They’re burning!” yelped helpless little Samantha as she realized she was trapped in Smell Hell.
“Ooooh poopie, P.U., my WORD!” said Mrs. Waldo. “Is there something that someone needs to tell me?”
I was NOT going to volunteer this information. It’s bad enough that people knew that someone went. There’s no way I can let then find out it’s me! I decided to play it cool and make everyone suffer. I started to laugh and tried to make a couple comments about how bad it smelled but I really started to feel down on myself. I looked around at the human suffering taking place within inches of me. I couldn’t let these poor young souls suffer anymore.
“I have something to tell you. I have something to tell you!” I wept it first and then scream-cried it.
All great heroes have to accept defeat when it’s handed to them. I was dismissed from class and waddled my way to the nurse’s office. She was waiting for me when I got there with a respirator and rubber gloves on.
“So, how bad is it?” she asked in her deep smoker’s voice.
“I don’t know,” I was inconsolable. I just couldn’t believe that this whole plan fell through. All the preparation, all the hope, the nation’s dreams resting all on my shoulders. How could I fail them? How could I fail myself, my family? The nurse approached to investigate closer.
“Woah! That’s real bad!” she hacked as she quickly snapped the elastic from my Superman underoos against my lower back.
Arrangements were made for my mom to pick me up. I didn’t want to talk to her, I knew what she had to say. The whole way home I thought of what I could have done better. How could I have made my dream a reality?
In the next few days, I noticed that one of my classmates had stolen my foolproof plan right from under the seat of my pants. It was this scumbag girl Denise whom I had unfortunately become all too familiar with. She had been caught red handed while stealing snacks out of my locker on a daily basis. The Notorious Denise had started to shit herself everyday and was getting away with it! She smelled like what you’d imagine a rotting carcass to smell like, but no one ever said a word to her. She even strolled around with huge brown stains in her pants!
“Real original you little bitch!” I screamed at her the first day that I had noticed she had tried to steal my identity as the leader of the Foolproof Pooptroop. She was so stupid that she just stared at me with her teeth hanging out of her mouth. Surprise, surprise, they weren’t brushed either.
Though I’m still extremely angered by the fact that Denise ripped my plan right out from underneath me, there is something reassuring about the whole situation. First, I know my plan could have worked. Second, it taught me that men are obviously superior to women. Let me explain. My droppings nearly exterminated an entire class of school children and a teacher. Denise’s go unspoken and she is ignored everyday while walking around looking like she got caught up in a mudslide.
I was never thanked for my immense contribution to society. But at least I can rest easy knowing that I have the bowels of a God. I’m currently suing Denise for copyright infringement.