Someone Was Actually Charged With Criminal Diarrhea Ricochet

The human mind is very bestial when rationality is stripped from it.  We’ve all seen or heard stories of someone gone completely insane, someone who rages like a caged animal and seems barely human at all anymore.  And likely each of us has been in a situation where our emotions were so strong, especially anger, or fear, that even trying to think rationally in that instant was not an option and instinct; pure animal instinct was all we had.  And what situation better exemplifies this state of being than when one really, really needs to use the bathroom but can’t?

Few things are more awful than having a serious gut-rotting powerbomb brewing just beyond the backdoor and having no means to deal with it.  Imagine, then, Chas Cox, the English fellow at Glastonbury music festival whose insides were whipped into some sort of chaotic, unwholesome frenzy of warm beer and suspect festival-foods.  He needed to go.  Badly.  And of course the festival had toilets available.  But the line to get in was about a 25 minute wait.  Chas’ insides would not wait.

In a panic, Chas ran from the festival grounds in search of someplace, anyplace to relieve his gastro-intestinal stress before permanent O-ring damage occurred.  He found a crosswalk and proceeded across the street and then fate stepped in with an invisible hand, stopping Chas on the spot.  His walk ended here.

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Maybe you’ve been in this situation before, maybe you haven’t.  Those who know me know my own personal tale of Poop Sandwich Billy, the terrible victim of my impromptu defecation from back in the day as, on my way home from a trip to the story I was wracked with a vicious need to relieve myself in a schoolyard, which I did next to a bush and, for lack of any other sanitation, used the loaf of 12 grain bread I had just purchased to haphazardly wipe clean my own personal crime scene, leaving several slices in the mire which I assume some hapless child found the next day.  He would tell he teachers about his terrible discovery but, in a perverse twist, no one would believe he had simply “found” it.  They would accuse him of the crime, and children, as they are wont to do, would tease him mercilessly.  Poop Sandwich Billy, they’d call him.  And for the remainder of his years there he’d be known as the boy who wiped his ass with bread on the schoolyard.  I’m not proud of doing that to some young man.  But one does what one must in an emergency.

So too did Chas when he crossed that street.  He crossed right to the edge and then proceeded to depants.  At the apex of his squat, Chas let loose a torrent of monstrous effluence, a hate spackle at once so vile yet so powerful that when it hit the pavement, like the gush from Satan’s own firehose, it exploded outward in the world’s most fearsome ricochet.  And so, the lady walking behind Chas, and her 5 year old child, were right in the path of least resistance.

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The backsplash lurched forth like a tidal wave of despair, like a Great White rising from the deep to capture its prey. The child, his young mind still developing, his thoughts not as organized and quick to gauge a situation’s downsides so easily as a worldly adult’s could probably only stare in dread confusion as the poonami wave crashed into him, riddling his body like fecal buckshot.

Cox was charged with “an act outraging public decency by behaving in an indecent manner,” to which he has plead not guilty for the reason he had no other choice.  He had no choice but to hose that young man with a substantial misting of diarrhea.  That’s his defense.  We wish him, and the young man, well.