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I can relate, man.

A couple of weeks ago, I felt a shit nudging the inside of my anus - but I could tell from the pressure being exerted and from the weight that it wasn't a big one. I thought I'd wait for the food currently being digested to turn into poo and join the poo already waiting to be let out before taking a dump. Big mistake, yo. Big Farking mistake.

Two nights later, after nearly 52 hours of not opening my shit-hole, I felt like I'd given birth to an oil truck. I applied so much pressure when pushing out the poo that I actually turned red in the face and felt dizzy (though I steadied myself by holding on to the towel rail). Time to clean, but - of course - no toilet paper. I contemplated using an empty bottle of shampoo, but I decided the logistical difficulty outweighed its effectiveness so I scrapped the idea. I shouted my brother for help, but no reply. I then proceeded to crab-walk out of the toilet, and all the way downstairs (past my brother, who was eating nachos and watching TV) until reaching the safety of the guest bathroom where I cleaned myself in peace.

Problem solved, right? Nope. When I get back to the bathroom upstairs, I stand back and survey the damage. No splatter. Just one huge, ****-off piece of shit. I flushed it twice but it wouldn't move, the force of the flush wasn't even eroding the poo such was the solidness of my excrement. I then broke a wooden hanger in half and started attacking the shit as it was nestled quietly and smugly (**** you, ariiiiigold! I like it here, I ain't goin' nowhere!) in the toilet. I hacked away at it until the shit broke up in to three/four pieces. I pressed the flusher and off it went. Discarded the hanger out of the bathroom window. God knows where it is now.