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About Me:

I'm a 21 year old gamer from Canada who refuses to accept rational or logical explanations of all things. Armed with a large vocabulary and total disregard for morals and opinions, I fight for Justice. Or Destruction. Which ever gets me teh pwn.




Also, here are 10 things you didn't know about me



Games I've Played worth mentioning
Resident Evil Series
Shining Force Series
All the Sonics. ALL of them.
Command and Conquer Series
Fallout 1,2 and 3
The Elder Scrolls Series

A Genuinely Scary Story

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9

Other Stories I've Written

Risque Business
Karma
Monkey Business
The Chronicles of Niero
A Tribute to ZzFFTLzZ: The End of Douchebaggery
Skid Marks
Tastes on the Danforth: The Harbinger of Death
Didn't see that one coming
The Gross Out
Fear: Shit makes you run
You can't get out eggnog stains
Rage is the best investment
Stupid is as stupid does
Necessity above all else
The most horrific story ever told
Dunk-a-roos: Crack for children

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Tehmtnlion
6:47 AM on 01.09.2009

Hey Community! I couldn't sleep last night and I remembered a horrible experience of mine and had to write it out! My skin's still crawling from the memories...

Enjoy!



We all have secrets. Secrets, which we will go to great lengths to keep hidden. The threat of exposure is a powerful motivator. Politicians know this best, and some have been destroyed by embarrassing acts from their past. Sex tapes, behind the scenes dealing, you name it, these things have influenced many lives, and gossip is always in hand with the uncovering of ones skeletons in their closet. As for me, I try not to have many secrets that I keep stowed away, the pressure to keep them from prying eyes can be too stressful sometimes. But when I do have a covert circumstance, I'll do whatever it takes to keep from being exposed. This is the story of a time when one of my "dirty" little secrets was discovered.

Summer camp is an experience many of us have had. The camp in question for me was a Christian bible camp that I had been to for four years in a row and I loved it very much. I wasn't Christian myself but because of that fact, I got to go for free so they could attempt to convert me. It wouldn't have worked anyway. My parents instilled a deep mistrust of the church in me. Something about the idea of a giant, shiny, beardy man in the sky didn't sit right with us. It was right on the coast of Southern Ontario, over looking Lake Huron. The campsite itself was in the middle of a forest, tall leafy maple and birch trees surrounding the perimeter. The air was fresh and invigorating to breathe in. Just thinking about it now I am reminded of a simpler time in my life. I was about 11 at the time of this story and I had just finished lunch.

The mess hall at the camp prepared delicious food. Today, lunch had consisted of chili and garlic bread with unlimited helpings. Being a fatter child than most, I abused this privilege and had eaten about four bowls of the stuff. I was filled to the brim and I was content. As the meal ended, our afternoon was to begin with two hours of free time, where we could do what we pleased, be it swimming, capture the flag, archery, whatever. It was a hot day so, I and my seven fellow bunk mates decided to get a snack from the tuck shop and then retreat to our cabin to escape the sizzling heat.

Being full from the meal, I told my friends that I would just head to the cabin and await their return. They waved to me and headed for the shop as I turned to waddle back toward our residence. It was here when the by-product of eating four bowls of chili began to manifest. I began to fart.

Farts to any kid are fucking hilarious. Entertained by this new development, I proceeded to release my gases with reckless abandon. With each couple steps, I would unleash a powerful ass-busting, the sound of my flatulence making me laugh uncontrollably. As I reached the cabin, I thought of a prank I could pull on my friends. I would go in and close all the windows in the cabin, hold in my gas for as long as I could and fire off a fart so fierce, the smell would be unbearable. I grinned from ear to ear with the thought.

I sat down on my bunk and felt the rumbling in my stomach grow. The methane began to knock at my back door, asking to be let out, but I acted like nobody was home. Ten minutes passed and with each passing second the pressure was building. It got to the point when I had to stand up and walk around a bit, to ease some of the pain I was feeling in my bowels. Finally, I decided that I had saved up enough gas to unleash it on the room and eventually, my bunk mates. Placing my hands on my knees, I bent slightly and pushed. The sound that greeted me spelled disaster.

Shhhhpppppliccckkkkk!

Immediately, I stood up and felt something wet and warm in my underwear. Fear set in. I had just sharted in my pants! Panicking, I look out the window towards the tuck shop and groaned in horror as I saw my friends slowly approaching. I turned back to the interior of the cabin and tried to think of a way out. I then decided the first choice of action was to get out of my shitty underwear. With amazing speed and flexibility for an overweight child, I stripped down and pulled off my undies. The sight that greeted me filled me with mixed emotions. Yes, I had indeed sharted, but, it was less than I thought I had. As I stared at the Hershey Kiss sized discharge, I then looked up around for a place to hide it.

I had to dispose of the evidence. I spotted the cabins garbage container, rushed over pantless, lifted some of the refuse and tossed the shitty underwear into the bin. Jumping back into my pants, I hurried out the cabin door, closed it and tried to compose myself. Not even 4 seconds after I closed the door, my friends arrived. They were greeted by the sight of me leaning against the cabin with one hand while I looked at my feet and whistled.

Subtle.

"Hey Luke," one of them said, "why are you standing outside? It's so hot out!"

With almost lightening speed, an explanation spurred through my mind and out my mouth.

"When I got here, I did go inside at first, but it stinks really bad in there! I don't know what is making the smell!"

Of course I was lying through my teeth. I knew EXACTLY what was making the god awful stench, but I had a plan. I would play it off like I had said and when the tarnished tighty-whities were discovered, I would deny any and all involvement of their creation.

Hurriedly, we opened the door and ran in. Even though I had just been in the room seconds prior, the closed windows and the sun's heat had intensified the smell to epic proportions. The odor made me retch slightly, an act that was mimicked by the rest. The windows and door were sprung open and the breeze cleared the room of the filthy scent.

The search had now begun.

First, everyone checked their own bunk and belongings. I'm pretty sure everyone wanted to be certain that something that smelled that bad, was not hiding in their beds or in their luggage. When this was done, we swept the room, checking under bunks, in drawers and behind cabinets. I purposely searched the side of the cabin opposite of the trash can, determined not to be the one that uncovered the dirty prize. Implications would surely follow as soon as it was found.

Finally, one of them opened the lid to the trash can and hovered over it and inhaled. He immediately gagged and ran out of the cabin. He may have puked, I don't know. I was numb with fear as I watched the other children rush over to the trash can, each wanting to investigate it themselves.. With a determined fervor, the lid was torn asunder and a stick was used to pull the undies out. The reaction was instantaneous.

"EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!"

The shitty underwear was carried into the center of the room and laid on the floor. The children had begun to grow more and more excited in their disgust. They began pushing and shoving as they accused each other of doing the deed. I snapped out of it and feigned excitement about the discovery. Then, what I was fearing happened. The accusations started.

"Well," one said, "how the hell did this get here?"

"Luke was here for ten minutes by himself," another added, "They gotta be his!"

The group turned to face me. I then proceeded to give my Oscar nomination performance to the crowd.

"It wasn't me!" I began to explain, "When I got here, I opened the door and smelled this gross smell. I looked around for bit but the smell was too sick and I had to get out."

At this point I had walked towards the window and was looking out of it. I slowly turned back to the crowd and furrowed my brow.

"You know who it may have been, those dicks from Cabin 6!"

My arm shot out towards the aforementioned cabin's general direction.

The group exchanged dark glances between each other. Cabin 6 was our worst competition for the Cabin Cup, a prize for the cabin that had won the most points in the nightly camp games. Things had gotten pretty heated between the two cabins, and they would have been blamed for my mess had one of the group not had been struck by a blow of rational thought.

"I'm not entirely sure that Cabin 6 would do this," he mused, "I know. How about we check everyone's luggage and see what kind of underwear they have?"

I froze to the spot. I then gulped unnaturally loud at the most inopportune time.

The others, impressed by this unexpected stroke of rationality, ran to their bags and started to empty them. I slowly turned and looked at my bag and knew I was surely fucked. Still, in the attempt to keep this shipwreck of a ruse afloat, I proceed to unzip my duffel bag and pour it out on my bed. I only had tight, white underpants. I peered over my shoulder and looked to see if anyone else had some as well.

No one did.

They had all made the jump from undies to boxers. As I surveyed the room with my peripheral vision, all I saw was one plaid nail in my coffin after another. All of the other seven bunkers held boxers in their hands. The inevitable process of elimination brought all of their gazes to me. I did not turn around.

"Well Luke, lets see them."

My mind was racing a mile a minute, scrounging for some piece of bullshit to tell them. My mind had stalled. I felt a hand on my shoulder and it spun me around, my arms filled with my guilt. A collective gasp escaped from the crowd. The next few moments will stick with me for the rest of my life.

I was dragged out of the cabin by the majority of my bunk mates, while one followed in behind holding the stick with my damnation fluttering on top of it in the wind. Their yells alerted the entire camp that something was up. Like ants, the other campers swarmed out of their cabins and marched towards the circus. I was dropped onto the center of the meeting ground and surrounded by the entire camp. As I sat there dumbfounded, the stick carrier ran up to me and dropped the undies on my face. Courses of laughter erupted from the onlookers. Unable to see, I stood up and reached to pull off the underwear. I was greeted with looks of horror and sounds of disgust.

That little Hershey Kiss was now smeared across my forehead.

I didn't go back to camp the following summer.



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