/lit/ - Literature

>>4343746
3rd, hemmmingway

Is the second Plato?

>>4343758
Yes!

>>4343762
Yes!

Datass. Diarrhea. Deluge.

Shitme Shitme Shitme

>>4343770

Stein?

>>4343785

No, its the end of a poem rewritten.

A crowd had been waiting on the other side of the wall for what seemed like hours. Trousers had been lowered for a prolonged time. When the door opened, those who'd been biding their time were rewarded with a stench worthy of falling heavy weight champions.

>>4343770

T.S. Eliot

>>4343803

yes

ez mode
Will Edmonton was ready to explete a biological function commonly referred to as shitting. Shitting is the act of producing shit out of your asshole. Here's how shit looks like. To his misfortune, Will Edmonton was not in the vicinity of a toilet, which is sometimes referred to as a shitter. He was going to experience the humiliation of soiling his pants with shit. And so on.

And but so then Willy accidentally relieved himself just before entering the bathroom, in his pants, leaving a trail behind him as he rushed into the nearest stall. As he proceeded to expunge the chunks of his human debris from his now soaked trousers, he heard a knocking on his stall; in a moment of abject terror, he realized that the door to his lavatorial confinement was unlocked (1). It began to swing open, revealing to the innocent young transgender-ed drug addict, Marshall, Willy's sweat-beaten-and-now-profusely-smelling naked body (2).

1. This was one of those terrible public bathrooms in which privacy is impossible to find and nearly everything is covered in piss.

2. Willy, like most neurotics, always took off all of his clothing prior to defecating.

Should be easy.

The diarrhea in Quentin's pants was then is rather than was or will be and in the moment. The mob of angry niggers surrounding him in the square laughed at the him, rejoicing, and one shouted "Dis white boy over here dun shit his pants!" At that moment, Quentin realized that his father was a dung beetle.

>>4343851
Twain?

>>4343863

Nope, though not a bad second.

>>4343851
so kafkaesque

>>4343869

Also no; maybe I suck at writing. It references the same novel twice.

It was a gloomy day. It had been gloomy most days. Sampson looked at Jessica's almond eyes from a distance and couldn't help himself. He had to ask her the question. "Do you want to go on a date?", he asked her nervously, he could feel the butterflies in his belly climbing up his throat. Before she could answer, he felt those butterflies taking a turn down and sinking, quickly. She watched in horror as he ran to the bathroom holding his buttocks with both hands as a dark stain grew larger and larger.

Somebody please guess this shit.

>>4343746

Is the first one the bible?

>>4343808

>here's how shit looks like

Vonnegut

>>4343833
>Willy, like most neurotics, always took off all of his clothing prior to defecating.
>like most neurotics

Don't all people do this?

>>4343851
Not quite Faulkner, needs much longer sentences and more semi-colons.

>was then is rather than was or will be and in the moment

was good though.

>>4343886

Got it. You're right, longer sentences next time.

"A very nice hat, indeed", I hung up on her as it surged, brown and dense, from my ass. "...unlike it`s wearer, of course" She probably thought it was witty huh... but I knew better huh... Lord, I wish I had some newspaper with me. I wonder how it smells to an outsider. And her wrinkled face was flushed out of my mind.

>>4343885
No.

Another fun toilet-fact (which I only learnt a few months ago), folding the toilet paper is objectively better. I'd been confused my whole life as to how people could wipe their arse with a single piece of paper, when they said that's what they did I just assumed they were joking at the obvious fact you'd get shit all over your hands; well as it turns out if you fold the toilet paper twice over then, hey presto, you only need one to two sheets at a time. I literally reduced my toilet paper usage by 4/5ths.

>>4343885
I just lower my pants and underwear, or take of my jacket if I'm wearing one, so I can roll up my sleeves.

>>4343904
how were you wiping your ass before? Just crinkling tp or something?

I've just been folding it all of my life out of natural predisposition to it

>The fabric on his ass was the color of shit, stained by a hot deuce.


This is a good thread.

>>4343833

Can't believe that no one's gotten this yet.

>>4343913
It changed. At first I just pulled out 5 or 6 and just made a ball. Next, I wrapped a couple of sheets around my entire hand. Then, I'd simply layer 3 or 4 sheets on top of each other. And now I just fold 1 or 2 depending on the mess.

>>4343920

I've not really read him at all but, given the footnotes, DFW?

>>4343833

- Ha ha ha! Look at him now, his pants are stained and he stinks

- Yes, I do! Of the loathsome creatures that defecate about unknown to shame and decency, I am the most vile! But what does that make of YOU who take pleasure on such an obscene sight? Disgrace is the last resort of an honest man in this modern world, gentlemen. Let biology do it's sensible work!

"Don't do it! Don't you do it!" His mind raced; a battering-ram at bow and stern; thoughts and actions must be carefully considered. His excoriations were as violent as the expulsion; and with what energy he had left, he thought, "If only I had worn that diaper; Maude keeps tellin' me to."

>>4343870
Which of his novels?

>>4343928
>>4343931

Bingo.

>>4343870
No, I got the reference to S&TF but I just wanted to write the Kafkaesque.

Tidelike the diarrhea cusped down his legs kindled by its warmth.
--Aeouggggghhhhh! escaped him, the call tumbling over his lips slightly trembling. His hands reached down to touch his trousers, but it was already done.

>>4343928
>At first I just pulled out 5 or 6 and just made a ball.

My younger brother did this until he was 17. We tried explaining the fold method, but he refused to transition for fear of dirtying his hands.

He only changed when my parents forced him to start paying the plumber's bills.

He eventually went to the University of Chicago, he came out of the closet a year ago, and he clogged the toilet this past Thanksgiving after forgetting that he was banned from wadding his toilet paper at home.

>>4343851
I thought Cormac McArthy

John had been know all his life for being a bedwetter, a piss pour, an urine extruder. That day he decided to do something else: he shit his pants.

>>4343950
Joyce?

>>4343928
>>4343956
Semi-related

when I was like 5 I found out that women use toilet paper when they pee to clean off their piss but I got really confused and didn't know that they flushed it and thought they like stored it, so when I was alone I went and balled up a huge amount of toilet paper and shoved it up my ass and had a toilet paper bouquet coming out of my ass for like half of the day

fun times

>>4343872
somebody guess plz

On both sides of the arroyo the plain was desolate and glowed like moonblanched nacre, an alien luminescence that seemed to originate within the earth itself rather than reflect off of it. Snowblind and half fond the remuda and its riders passed what remained of an apache raiding caravan, dead horses slatribbed and mummified in the sun, wagons overturned with cartwheels and axles and canvas and all else that could be salvaged long cannibalized, the ceaseless dunes encroaching even now upon this ossifying parody of heathen might. Glanton shat.

>>4343746

Oh shit, lovely dearest excrement. S-H-I-T, smudge of my bowl, child of my bowels.

>>4343971
Nabokov.

>>4343940

I've read all of them, though As I Lay Dying, The Sound and the Fury, and Light in August are my favorites.

>>4343944

The name is from S&F, but the two references were both from AILD.

Another one:

Pavlov, having been indoctrinated by the IPSB (International Pants-Shitting Brigade) to periodically shit his pants during the course of his work for the Psychiatric Institute of London, shit his pants. Upon his self-defecation, a microchip planted in his intestine by the leader of IPSB, Generalissimo, previously the assassin of Our Lord Byron (who shined light upon all of Western Europe) activated, leading, 48 hours later, to the propagation of a radio signal from a nearby television tower, which, in turn, accessed the memory database of a large collection of underground mines, which then exploded. The PIL, who had been, by this time, studying Pavlov's movements and tracking his subsequent fecal projections, were able to triangulate the original source signal to a remote island off the coast of California, rumored to be the top of an underwater mountain around which the sunken city of Surferopolis was, supposedly, built.

>>4343875
Yes!

I nod and I smile in an effort to appear comfortable and in control of my body, but my quivering cheeks and sweaty upper lip are surely giveaways of my intense intestinal discomfort. The small of my back is pooled with sweat from the effort and fatigue of clenching my asshole shut, and I can feel the perspiration seeping through and ruining my silk Thom Brown boxers and navy Armani trousers. A single trickle of ass sweat tickles my trembling sphincter, and the shock of the sensation causes my asshole to spasm and release its soft grip, flooding my pants with hot semi-liquid feces that spews out with the intensity of ejaculate.

Bonus sentence:

I am sure that Van Owen, who is sitting across from me and is wearing a tweed Oxxford blazer with a Bill Bass tie and Oliver Peoples glasses, knows that I have just shat my pants.

So we now come to a point in our investigation in which we must analyze what is shitty, and the nature of shittiness, and from this deduce the possibility of shittiness (though we know that it IS possible, we do not yet know HOW, and this is the task at hand (for we cannot progress any further in our analysis of bodily functions until we preform this investigation)). This investigation as a whole can be termed a Transcendental Categorical Analysis of the Shit. Let us begin with four cases:
1. Let us propose that we have a man who, after having been exposed to all the unpleasantness of his bathroom (the sour smell, the muddy water, and other such hindrances of happiness), decides that he will instead defecate where he stands - namely in his living room. Here the shit is unlawful, as it does not obey completely the authority of Common Decency...

And then the analysis goes on for 10 pages, culminating in several categories of the permissibility, possibility, and substance of shit. This should be fairly obvious.

When I was young my father told me to never take a shit and leave without wiping your ass, not everyone has access to the facilities you do.

>>4343989
Arthur C. Clarke

>>4343988
George RR Martin

>>4343982
JRR Tolkein

>>4343969
HP Lovecraft

>>4343977

Pynchon?

>>4343991

Bingo. Only that man could make me feel strongly about the fate of a fucking light bulb.

>>4343974

You got it.

>>4343969

>>4343988

Dostoevsky?

>>4343993
>>4344011

You guys are joking, right? Did I make it way too obvious?

>>4343969

1. Steinback

2. McCarthy

If I got it tell me the number so I know which one.

>>4343982

>>4344018

Fuck me, is it Kant?

>>4344026

Fucking OF COURSE. Perhaps my language wasn't quite obtuse enough, but it's hard to mimic Kant. I've grown to love his style over the years though. It's so bizarre.

>>4344021
Yep

I'll do another:

After Doctor Bengay had fucked my tight little asshole senseless, and I had shot about three grains of H, I had to shit like you would not fucking believe. But I got lost on the way to the bathroom and ended up in Tangiers, where the speedballs were more coke than H, so I got distracted from taking my dump by some guys from simeopath clan in the middle of the Zone; they were mutilating the corpse of a previously raped baby by tying razor blades to their cocks and fucking it some more. Of course, I was surprised when that sickly-sweet liquid seeped from my gaping ass, there in the middle of the street, into my already soiled pants.

>>4343988

Gatsby believed in the brown muck, the orgastic passing of intestinal turmoil that day by day recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow the stench will rise again, hot and sweet and perverse, our anuses singing in the aftermath ... And one fine morning —
So we beat on, turds against the whirlpool, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Edmund stood tall in the courtroom, shit streaming down his bold, angular legs. As his steel grey eyes slowly appraised the rabble of gaping faces, he began to speak. "I am Rutherford Edmund...and I have just shit my pants publicly in this courtroom to show to you just how pitiful and disgraceful you are living your lives. Even since man invented the loincloth there have been two kinds of people. Bold, angular men who shit proudly, and the meager, hunch-backed parasites who siphon off the creativity of men's shit. The citizenry is a disease on itself and unless the individual can be left free to shit without the burdensome hand of government intervention no free man can..."
(Continued in chapters 8 through 12)

>>4344038

Bukowski?

>>4344038

>>4344032

Haven't read him but the transcendental categorical analysis was a dead giveaway once I thought about it. I skimmed through it the first time.

Haven't read any philosophical texts (discounting novels) because I believe I'm too young and impressionable right now to digest them.

>>4343993
>>4343989

Wrong, try again.

>>4344054

Dude I read the Critique when I was 15, and I think I did a pretty good job with it. If I can do it, so can you.

>>4344045

Not a bad guess.

>>4344050

This guy's got it wit the file name. Was recently talking with a professor of mine about Naked Lunch; he made the argument that the whole thing was a critic of mass media. Anybody else hear this kind of thing? What do you think of it?

>>4343989

Fitzgerald.

I'm taking a shit at home because I can't stand it do it at school. The teachers have their own private ones while they lump a couple goddamn stalls in a giant stinking room for everyone else to use for chrissake, goddamn phonies.

Harry shit his pants. Ron laughed. Hermione scoffed.


who am i

>>4344044

>>4344065

Yep.

>>4344069

>phonies

Salinger everyday.

>>4344069
>goddam phonies
>writer/literary style

It was perhaps during the strain or before that I realized the inevitability of my predicament. For had I not experienced such trouble of the trousers, there would exist another version of myself existing in the infinite possible universes who would curse the name of the eternal minotaur that surveys the branching possibilities of time and space (1). Upon this understanding, I allowed the internal pressure to release itself abysmally within me.

(1) Some theologians argue that there may exist multiple cases of pant soiling, all varying in intensity. Kant maintained the universal excrement theory. But some believe that any man who soils himself is the same person.

>>4344074
J.K. ROFLING?

And another (poetry this time):

I walked down by the riverside, took in the sweet smell of flowers,
Smiled, and inhaled their fumes,
As I do with thoughts of you, here in this great land of ours.
But as distant thoughts of us together floated away, with the water,
A new sensation entered my body, one of dire consequences.
And though it was unpleasant for a time
(And though my trousers were spoiled for all, especially me),
I recalled those moments of you with I, and sang us again, forgetting the pain.

>>4343933
Nice, Dostoevsky

>>4344074
Philip K. Dick?

>>4344081

>in emulation of your favorite writer
>(emulation)
>OR literary style

In retrospect I should've said phonie teachers.

>>4343872
Murakami?

hope you didn't leave

In youth Professor Atherton had felt the hidden beauty and ecstasy of things, and had been a poet; but poverty and sorrow and niggers had turned his gaze in darker directions, and so he began his survey of the antiquerian chronicles of decadent Asiatic princelings, whose ancestral inheritances were spent entirely on feast days -- only in so much as they precipitated unutterably foetid occasions of ceremonial filth-passing, wherein each dropped clod was met with ululations and cymbal-clinking from a dozen blinded idiot-priests of G'hetbeleh the Keeper of Weeping Beds. Eventually, daily life had for Professor Atherton come to be a passage between bouts of macabre defecation. He would often regard them as he did now, presently squeezing the daemonic effluence that passed furtively between his gibbous moon: with cackling and eye-rolling and leering that greatly disturbed his yellow tom, Chinky Boy Jr.

She went on with her narration:

I was working again they next day when I spy through the hole a man and a girl of the ripe age of 10. The man told the girl to lift her pants. Complying he was shown the smooth flat surface of her clean smooth vagina. "Such filth, if I had wished to see such waste I'd have fucked a village girl, show me your sweet ass little one!" She obliged and in turn got ready to perform a spectacle of which I've never seen. She hoisted herself above the man and in pure fluid movements she shat and farted several times in succession as the man began to consume and inhale her excrement.

Anon #1 became visibly aroused an began stroking his man "Such libertinage!" he exclaimed as he stroked his enlarged member.

Anon #2: Ah yes such joy is only in the sights of ass, I would too enjoy this exalted act of a clear libertine.

>>4344130

Agatha Christie?

>>4344138

Nope.

Anon believed in the green toilet, the shittastic future that second by second recedes before him. It eluded him before, but that's no matter- now he will run faster, clench his ass tighter...And soon-

So we walk on, shit against our pants, borne back ceaselessly into shame.

>>4344044

>Bold, angular men who shit proudly
oh god my sides i can't breathe

When I think of this life I have led, the lonesomeness of a pants stainer - oh weariness, oh heaviness! Forty years of continual shitting. For forty year have I fed putrid decomposed matter to what was previously immaculate fabric.

What so compels my intestines, what irresistible sovereign commands my rectum, that shit so keeps pushing and crowding and jamming itself on all the time! But if the mighty gorilla does not contain it's shit a single moment, nor does any creature of God resist excretion, how, then, can this one small colon contract, this one small sphincter expand, this one small anus shit if it not God who does that pissing, who does that farting, who does that shitting and not I?

Aye, toil I how I may, I always shit at last my pants.

>>4344110
lovecraft
liked the touch of "Chinky Boy Jr."

>>4344146

Fitzgerald.

>>4344146
reference can be subtler, though

The rising dawn found him crouched in the line for a public lavatory watching the men shuffle on. He waited for an hour. A group of men moved up smoking and smoking moved on. After a while he hunched over. His grunts found the attention of bedlamites and sodomites, lurching and cursing.
My God, will this line ever move forward he said. He cursed again. His stomach heaved, like a black glass ocean over which no stars can be reckoned and no arcane maps read, made from the communal blood of so many men before him.
Finally with a foul stink and sound of thunder he lets loose in his trousers

The toilet was covered in goddam shit and all. They never bother to clean the things in stores, which you think they would if they wanted customers and all. But it wasn't even that bad, I really needed to go and it felt good and all.

>>4344174
Hawthorne?

>>4344186
Salinger

"I- I- I think I shit my pants." said Mark.

They all looked at him.

They all looked at him.

Burroughs

>>4343989
>>4344146
no coincidence that the two faggots who have only read gatsby have major problems with subtlety

One should step back from the assumption that shit can be known, looked at, analyzed; for the shits that prove most greatly one's infinite commitment, one's knighthood, as it were, are those which are, by their nature, unanalyzable, beyond language, beyond knowing. The shit of faith is that which is acted upon before realization, before knowledge, before awareness; acted upon in the strength of commitment previously established -- preceding even the self's relation to itself. This relation is the product of the self's awareness of selfhood, which is itself formed in the relation of the relation to the self's self. Man is a synthesis of the infinite and the finite, of the temporal and the eternal, of freedom and necessity, in short it is a synthesis. A good shit is a relation between two factors. So regarded, man cannot yet shit.

Excluding, then, the knowing of self as preceding the relation of self to itself, one questions the possibility of the unclouded shitting of the Word, being at once the logos and the biblos. One knows immediately, however, that not only is the reading clouded irreparably, but the clouds themselves are clouded, creating a second order cloudedness, in which the clouds themselves are blind to their own cloudedness. This second order cloudedness is, indeed, where we find ourselves, men of faith, shitting, in that the Word is clouded to us twice over, being the clouding of the eyes and the clouding of the mind and the straining of the rectum. Such cloudedness, which is, really, a will to cloudedness, cannot be penetrated and we have already shat our pants.

The resolution comes when one invokes the teleological suspension of the ethical. The commitment which precedes language, which precedes the self's awareness of the relation, and which operates independently of the second order will to cloudedness - and this because it precedes will - proceeds with unfaltering clarity and precision, if, for no other reason, that it operates prior to all understanding or the capability to acknowledge the unknowingness of the command to shit one's self. If, for example, when one is called to shit one's own pants, such an act cannot be rationalized or quantified; one must complete an act which is literally unfathomable and unspeakable. The command itself is not of language, precluding a linguistic response. Language defines what one knows, but not one's actions. Action beyond reason and language is justifiably committed, and this is true faith.

>>4343758
>hemingway
>redundancy
nope

>>4343851
Sartre?

>>4343988
Kierkegaard? Or Kant?

>>4344261

Kant
>>4343988

Kierkegaard
>>4344219

He was there, crouching and shitting his pants, feces flying out of his ass just the same as Charlie Parker was swinging in and out of the key changes while driving the chorus home to the tonic, in and out, swaying to the highs and the lows before finally ending with a high pitched shriek. As his bowel finally calmed, he left for the chilly night with blue notes ringing in his ears and brown, wet stains hugging his ass, reminding him that this was definitely it.

>>4344302
Um... Kerouac?

For sale: baby's shorts, worn once.

>>4344331
For sale: baby's shorts, shat in.

>>4343746

His bowels moved from anticipation. What happened next was out of sheer reflex. His pants were filled.

>>4344335
>>4344331
For sale: cloth diapers, never washed.

'But it transcends biology. I'm not an animal. I feel and believe. I have bowel movements. Some of them are interesting. I could,
if you'd let me, shit and shit. Let's talk about anything. I believe the influence of Kierkegaard on Camus is underestimated. I
believe Dennis Gabor may very well have been the Antichrist. I believe Hobbes is just Rousseau smeared with shit. I believe, with
Hegel, that transcendence is absorption. I could shit you guys right under the table,' I say. 'I'm not just a creãtus, manufactured, conditioned, bred for shitting.’
I open my eyes. 'Please don't think I don't shit.’

>>4344367
Easy, DFW.

We were somewhere around Barstow, at the edge of the desert, when the laxatives began to take hold.

>>4344380
Ahahahaha.

Very good.

>>4344044
I love you

AEneas sped through the ranks amid the rain of spears to see if he could find Pandarus. When he found the son of Lyacon he said,"Pandrus, why stand you cowering here upon the brink of battle? Mount my chariot, and note how cleverly the horses of Tros can speed hither and tither over the plain in pursuit or flight"
"AEneas" replied the son of Lycaon, "In my father's fields grow barley, rye and soft reeds that may serve men divers purposes; My old father Lycaon urged me again and again when I was home and on the point of starting, to take a bushel of reeds to fill my loincloth with but I would not listen to him; It would have been much better for me if I had done so. The fruits of nourishment have grown restless in me and I fear that I shall not even be able to remove my cuirass and raiment before the miry torrents are reft from me."
Thus did he shit himself

>>4344044

*pitifully, *disgracefully, *ever, *hunchbacked, *in

When a warm river of shit runs down your inside leg, not even the best acting and the bravest of faces can save you. You're done for -- your goose is cooked!

And so it is for all the bastard French, concealing their own immorality - brown and stinking inner leg tributaries of the river 'War'.

>>4343914
God damn it, Gibson.
8/10

>>4344130
De Sade.

>>4343746
>Feculus

Look at how my Papa poops.
Look at Papa's poopy poops.
I like the droop of Papa's poop.
His pants are pooped and he peeps, "Oops..."

>>4344565
T. Lin

"I just shat my pants," he said on Gmail chat.

>>4344570

3 sentences

His penis dandled, rocking with the violence of churchbells at noon swung by a spastic father -his colon was playing zydeco-dubstep black metal on an accordion played by the ghost of Sviatoslav Richter - he knew he had no chance, wept, and reached for the snubnose revolver he promised his wife that he would never use in anger (or against forest creatures)

>>4343746
the first is nietzsche I'm guessing.

>Within the realm of the bathroom there are but two elements essential to any: a Latrine*, and a wash basin.
>Again, I want to stress that I am at this point only interested in the Latrine.
>I am not able to find it in time, and I feel a warm liquid trickle slowly down my pants: So goes the shit.

>*Latrine, commonly known as a Toilet

His bowels spasmed and then unclenched, fetid brown, icthyian filth spilling forth from a plane of existence long forbidden.

>>4344627
Lovecraft? It doesn't include the word 'eldritch', though.

But surely shitting your pants is a distinct activity! Well, to this I want to say - look at the multiplicity of actions involved! And when do we say that man has shit himself without reference to a specific man, aside from when one is doing philosophy?

>>4344694
>>4344627
That's totally lovecraft though I think I would mention the words "unspeakable", or "unnameable", "black infinities", "black pools", "unfathomable", "unknowable", "human ken" there's a few more

and instead of spasm I think fitting paroxysm to fit would be more lovecraftian assuming that is what you were going for

>>4344948
This makes me think of Zizek gesticulating wildly.

>>4344508
Hahaha, very good! This thread is fun

The man knew what he did. He shit himself. He thought about how this was a waste of time.

I shit myself. Yes, I shit in my pants. None of it matters. Planes crash into towers. Shit yourself. Mom is diagnosed with terminal cancer. Shit yourself. The parasites in your small intestine begin to eat the lining of their home. Shirt yourself.

I begin to walk through the store, when the floor turns to mud. All these reptiles and monsters don't seem to mind it though, why should I? But then it hit me. I had shit in my pants.

>>4344975
Stygian
Non-Euclidean
Charnel-house

>>4345012
Palahniuk?

FECATUS: For every pleasure in this world there must be a corresponding suffering, tenfold in it's intensity. See now that I enjoyed the fruits of labour with sweat clinging to my face, only to have it all spilt on my trousers.

MOROSE: And this proves you are alive and breathing. But look closely, are you , really?

Note - Fecatus checks his pants with his hand repeatedly but finds nothing. His expression should be one of utter devastation

>>4344547
Tolstoy?

Ah now, it was tootwoly torrific, the mummurrlibejubes! And the after that they used to be s forgetful, counting motherpeributts (up one up four) to membore her beaufu mouldern maiden shit for overflauwing, by the the dream woman the owneirist, in forty lands. From Greg and Doug on pooor Greg and Mat and Mar and Lu and Jo, now happily warmed and shitted, our four! And there she was right enough, that lovely sight enough, the girleen bawn ass shore, as for arse galore, of planxty Gregory Egory. O trousers, not Shit! Ay, Ay

>>4343950
lovecraft?

>>4344627
>fetid

makes it too obvious

Written in the style of a particular novel.

The bathroom in Grégory's flat. There is a man on the toilet with his head in his hands, pants pulled up around his waist, fastened with a black leather belt with the faded logo of two entwined snakes, just above a button with the initials D.G, a result of a lost bet made by the owner of the company that produced to the pants to his brother, over a family feud started six years ago over a deceased father's only earthly possession, a gold novelty watch with neither minute nor hour hand, face imprinted with the words "time for you to get a watch", of which watch was actually the catalyst that destroyed the father's marriage with a beautiful baker with no sense of humor, and rid him of all his belongings besides the watch, which the wife absolutely refused to keep. On the wall is a painting of a smiling king in crown, holding a painting of another jovial king also holding a painting of a king, ad infinitum, as well as a slightly smaller painting just to the left of this, depicting two men playing chess as an ominous face watches in the background.

He checked his watch, a quarter past two. His tweed suit jacket was drenched in sweat. He ran into the small cafe on the corner of the San Luis Palazzo de la Patriarcho. Rather large men in black suits were briskly walking toward his location, making the loaf of shit inside his ass gather momentum. The professor rushed into the bathroom of the cafe only to release a gigantic turd onto the floor. He examined his newly shat fecal matter and noticed something peculiar, "The turds, they are arranged in...English? The language of science of course! Quick, someone come help me prop up this pile of shit!" A maitre d rushed into the bathroom to find the man in tweed exclaming, "Don't you see? It's an anagram!" Sure enough, the maitre d peered down at the steaming pile to find that the shit had spelled out H-T-S-I on the floor. "If I just rearrange these corny logs...", the professor quickly shuffled the shitty letters around to read S-H-I-T. "A cypher!" the man yelled as he scooped up his pants, and without wiping, hurried out of the cafe to a blonde, smart looking woman on a motorcycle.

>This is a delicious evening, when the whole body is one sense, and imbibes delight through every pore. It comes with a strange liberty in my pants, a part of myself. The bullfrogs trump to usher in the night, and the note of the whip-poor-will is drowned out by my embittered cries. Four rods away, the passing train rattles loudly, sending distant vibrations up into my bowels. My trousers were soon warmed, like an Indian summer, and soon the stench overtook that of the nearby sumach (Rhus glabra).

>>4343833
>And but so
smirked

>>4345012
Hunter S. Thompson.

>>4345449
'of which watch'

Disgusting, fix your grammar.

>>4343969
has anyone even read blood meridian? this post is so like mccarthy it hurts. ossifying and nacre and slatribbed are such mccarthy words. the fact that the character is called glanton is somewhat of a fucking clue as well

It was there, in the tiny toilet cabin that the Shit got me.

He drew in a deep breath and shut his eyes as he ran his left hand caressingly over his stomach. Grasping the toilet with his right hand, he pressed his behind against the hole, and guided it to the correct place. Then, with a powerful push of his abdomen, he plunged the anus into the pot. The instant the turd tore open his ass, the bright disc of the sun soared up and exploded behind his eyelids.

>>4343969
10/10 if you wrote that yourself

>>4343796
dos?

>>4344987
It's not, but I can see why you said that, and it's funny that you did.

Think of it as written prose, not spoken, despite its dialogue style.

as steve roggenbuck:
I am shiting my man pantz over you. I litrally shit myslef because i lik u. my boner for u made me shit myslef.

>>4343969
>>4343969
top kek
5 star post
Post of the fucking year edition

The famous man looked at the red cup. He felt a bad feeling which was the feeling that he was about to poo some brown poo out from his bottom.

But with the help of his training from an ancient tribe of warrior monk hackers, he managed not to.

>>4344547
Celine.

The last sentence makes it too obvious.

>>4344557

Yep.

The Ruined Curtains

There was a man who leaked, enormous watery discharges that came thundering out of his hind regions in uncontrollable blasts.

What shall we do, the carpet is ruined! screamed his wife, as the man let loose a triumphant jet of faecal liquid that ruined a light fitting, before ruining a kitchen table, and going on to ruin a twelve piece china tea set.

I can't help it, sighed the man, and besides, a man's got to do what a man's got to do, he sighed as another sudden burst ruined the curtains, ruined his wife, and ruined a small tree in the garden... and all about, the deepening shadows of dusk...

>>4344202

He sat rigid and motionless on the bowl, bracing himself for the next wave of tumultuous spasming to further erode his sphincter. His compound eyes darted around with a hostile, frightened glow like an insect in the throes of the bug-spray. Outside the cubicle, he could hear the clicking mandibles of the Lesbian panhandlers as they conspired to pin him down and pick his bones clean.

>>4346237
Dan Brown, obviously.

Say, does anyone around here like Stewart Lee?

>>4346983
> Stewart Lee
I was thinking that too. This thread is surely only one short step away from the Joe Pasquale joke routine.

Jonathan Montana sat on the shitter with a neutral facial expression. He made a pushing movement with his bowels, with a strained facial expression. Jonathan Montana's bowels opened and released a turd into the toilet and he sighed with a relieved facial expression.

-The day felt so etiolated as I had no time to for myself
-When owls awoke, alone in my room, I decided to satisfy the fire in my loins
-Bathroom, nearest place of choice. Fuck me, I sat down with no escape, only to ruin any feelings of fire inside me

>>4343746
cold porcelain on my ass, shivering and pimpling the hairs while i squeeze a hard one, hard enough to give myself a hernia. its a light sweat over the cheeks on my face that i wipe with the reverse of my left palm. my headache arises again.

>>4345889
>>4345987
>>4346223

maybe I should take up ghostwriting

I also wrote this: http://fuuka.warosu.org/lit/thread/S4078900#p4080986

>>4347292
that's so ingenious to use footnotes. it's just like infinite jest!

10/10 thread


"Alas! What does come forth from my bowels alone, could be naught but the mischief of a wretched foe, who yonder in the witches' house has a curse upon my name pronounced"

>>4343746
O, poor unfortunate man! O cruel world, o evil bowels, that they would not do their right and proper job and hold his feces within! Cide Hamete Benengeli weeps for uncountable pages for the great atrocity that befell him.

It is a warm summer night
And the moon above, dress'd in white
Dimly lits the river below
Where gently spread my asscheeks are
As the deuces earthen plunge below
Softly plashing with odorous drops
The hands that, loving, my bums hold

>>4343746
As Alyksandyr took a shit, his cock dangled back and forth like the pendulum of a clock. The balls hanged softly like coconuts from a tree. The sunlight cast an immense shadow of his fat pink mast across the floor.

>>4343746
Así que fue al cagadero, niño. Se bajó los pantalones baratos que su vieja le había arreglado ya un par de veces, y dejó ir un mojón tan monumental como su nombre.

¿En que lío te metiste, Zavalita? - Pensó

>>4346940
Does no-one recognise my target prose poet?

>>4349539

no idea who this' from, but it was hilarious

also bumping for further interest

>>4343878
>Listen: His shit has come unstuck in time...

Sunset found her squatting in the grass, groaning. Every stool was looser than the one before, and smelled fouler. By the time the moon came up she was shitting brown water. The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the stream to suck up more water.

>>4351218
No, but I like it. Or rather I would, if it was about something other than shitting.

>>4345100
Joyce, I suspect.

somebody please archive this thread

The man felt a rumbling from within and he knew that it was here. Great jaws opened from within him and sprung forth the filth and the anguish that he had for so long stored. His boss was not going pleased about the rug.

>>4346940
>>4351218

Time is sadly up, and the answer was Russell Edson. Pic very related.

EZ mode:

>artorial flogarty fecally friszed from the bark of the bottomly fien rectus rectangulus in light of the piéce of the pisstoral pastor. Enquiredly jensarte agazed pon the turd in its likeningly lessened state of asunder. >amallynallywallyshally sat upon the throne of great mans and foibled flatulantly flusterously fantasmically within the porcelein back when the porc was withing her sepulcrous spattulae.

>>4349539
I'm guessing cervantes

whatever it was, made me chuckle heartily

Sing, goddess, the bowels of Peleus' son Achilleus
and their devastation, which poured shit thousandfold down his greaves

>>4344948

Foucault?

It is so long that I have first crapped myself, that if it had been a trifling event in my life, I might have forgotten it's date: but such cardinal events are not to be forgotten; and from the circumstances that arose with it, I realise that it must have occurred during the autumn of 2003.

During that season, I was subject to a series of excruciating pains of the stomach, the origin of which I do not know. It was one day that I by accident met a college acquaintance, who recommended Benzedrine. At that very moment, I was suddenly seized by the worst cramping sensations, from which I had hardly any respite for about twenty minutes. My companion offered his most sincere condolences and, this done:

This said, he sat; and expectation held
his look suspense, awaiting what appeared

Excrement! dread agent of unimaginable pleasure and pain! What solemn cords does it now strike upon my heart! what heart quaking vibrations of sad and happy remembrances!

It is so long that I have first crapped myself, that if it had been a trifling event in my life, I might have forgotten it's date: but such cardinal events are not to be forgotten; and from the circumstances that arose with it, I realise that it must have occurred during the autumn of 2003.

During that season, I was subject to a series of excruciating pains of the stomach, the origin of which I do not know. It was one day that I by accident met a college acquaintance, who recommended Benzedrine. At that very moment, I was suddenly seized by the worst cramping sensations, from which I had hardly any respite for about twenty minutes. My companion offered his most sincere condolences and

"This said, he sat; and expectation held
his look suspense, awaiting what appeared"

Excrement! dread agent of unimaginable pleasure and pain! What solemn cords does it now strike upon my heart! what heart quaking vibrations of sad and happy remembrances!

>>4343851
>"Quentin"
>angry niggers
>father/son complex

>>4343863
>>4343869
>>4343958
>>4344256
This speaks pretty badly of /lit/

>>4351601
You know how fucked your life is when you know what this refers to, even though you haven't read a single book from the series.

>>4352377
>>4345100

but which is best?

As Anon Anonson awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his porcellaine lavatory into a gigantic piece of shit. He wasn't just shitting his comfortable nighgown, like he does every night - he found himself being a thick brown turd itself. Unable to move he slowly felt sliding down the drain, a pitiful helpless excrement.

Ahab's fragile physical structure and naturally exhausted limbs due to his age-so close to immortality in the profligate unconscious of his- allows the smooth brown to flush in an ungodly force forcing his buttocks to shiver and quiver as if lighting is hitting the hole between his couple with God's wrath and fury. The brown now immersed in dark yellow delivering a sun-set merge of a hallucinogenic coloring escaping his rear's door with ungodly terror and strength of the seas' unrestricted bounds. Cursing in the anguish of boiled blood now wrecking the essence if his every-hole and what they contain while surrounded in God's sweat broken on the sixth day and the liquid so denser and brown with his solid particles resembling corn's seed and peanuts so unnatural; all was shat and all was for the world's eyes to sea.

>>4352661
kafaka

>>4343746
Shakespeare julius caesar

On the third day I felt a stirring around my bottom and confirmed I had indeed shit myself -- I'm not too proud to admit I had no control over my anus' contractions at the moment and was taken back by the situation. Given back control of what was going on, I excused myself, and walked over to the closest lavatory.

>>4351428
>And so he made it back to his house, took off his pants and confirmed that the uncomfortable sensation was indeed shit, which he then scooped out of his underpants so that he could wash them properly. Etc.

Not exactly my favorite, but this one doesn't seem to have been done yet.

"In all of his wild struggling to break free from the thongs binding his hands and feet, the man had forgotten about the sorry state of his bowels.
And so, in his desperation to escape, he made a quite proper mess of his trousers. It was a bit of a queer situation, but not so bad as the man thought, as he would soon discover: that, however, is a tale for another time".

>>4343746
Richard sat on his laptop on his toilet and opened twitter dot com and began to compose a tweet. 'I am shitting' he typed before deleting it and taking one xanax tablet out of the packet. Maybe I will just forward Annies email describing her shit yesterday to James, he thought.

- What are we doing?

- shitting

- shitting who

- shitting onabark

Glendinning, whilst sat in the chair nearest the window, defecates in his clothes. In "Shame and Power: an Analysis" (Wanstead Press, 1992), Andrew Benson entertains the hypothesis that the act per se is a cause of shame, and not merely the understanding that it has been witnessed. We see that his children are playing in the upstairs hallway and are oblivious, but in the March 2009 edition of "Psych Today", Canadian psychologist Henry Arkus writes that with the help of frame-by-frame analysis of the footage, he concludes that Glendinning's facial expressions are consistent with both shame and terror.

>be me, sit at home. dad walk in, tell me pants is shit. "no".

>A man either has shit coming out of his arse into his pants or he hasn't. All those who have shit coming out of their arses are un-virtuous. All Sophists have shit coming out of their arses. Thus, all sophists are un-virtuous.

>>4353013
Looks like Plato to me, but I'm 100% pleb.

And so, Mauricio Sarracas would sit for hours and listen to the interminable whisperings of the invisible doctors and watch the paint peel off the crumbling plaster and drywall. His memory drifted back to the time when his father, Mauricio Jose Sarracas--in a compulsive fit of creativity-- had expanded the house and painted every room a different shade of green, before succumbing to the peculiar ailment where his lungs and intestines filled with a viscous, pink bile. And so, Mauricio sat there shitting in an empty toilet in an empty house, lost in the faint aroma of oregano and begonias that were brought to him by a soft breeze, remembering that afternoon where his father took him to the circus.

>>4352920

Chaucer?

When seven tacos have besieged thy throat,
And dig deep trenches in thy belly's field,
Thy arms shall briskly move thy winter coat,
And search thee for a lav'try unconcealed;
Whose fresh repair if now thy do not beg,
For where is place so fair whose porce'lain room,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless thy legs,
And so distress all who shall smell thee soon.
Thou were thy mother's glass as shit in thee
Calls back to mind the lovely lunch's chime;
So this through windows of thine ass shalt see,
Despite thy clutches, this thy darkened time.
But if thou shittest, do not loudly plea,
Ere in this waste thine image die with thee.

>>4353227
beautiful, would adapt to film starring kenneth branagh

The kid rode up behind the Comanche and leveled the big revolver at the back of the natives head. There was a deafening thunderclap and the hiss of blood spraying onto hot embers, the dull thud of the man hitting the sand. His bowls went loose not long after the blood start to snake its way into the camp fire.

Anon darted up, his asshole burning. It had happened every night this summer, awakening to soiled sheets from dreams of his mother and father and a green flash.

>be me
>go to bathroom
>cant open my pants
>shit myself
>pass out
>wake up
>my cat is licking my shit glazed ass
>qt314 gf enters the room
>spaguetti and feces all over my face

>>4353227
fantastic

>>4353230
>>4354241
Why thank you.

Another:
William's stomach growled in a way that, while entirely natural in a medical sense, seemed to gurgle a sentence in an altogether unnatural, otherworldly language. And even though William couldn't understand the language, he still interpreted it accurately. "Oh Christ," he hooted, as the back of his trousers began to expand much like trousers outside of a circus show shouldn't.

>>4343746

I sit at my seat giving them change for the shitty items they purchased to memorize the time, I shit myself in quiet amusement, reading a copy of Eeeee Eee Eeee

ah shit ma pants cos the heroin kicks in

I shit my pants as I have sex with a hooker and do cocaine and brag about graduating at UCLA.

Noah Cicero, Irvine Welsh, Bret Easton Ellis.

>>4353432
>be sitting on the bus
>girl comes up to me
>I've shit my pants
>she tells me I smell nice
>I say thanks, but I'm not interested
>she keeps talking to me about how cute I am
>I tell her to go away
>I get off the bus
>she follows me
>gives me a piece of toilet paper with her name and number on it
>I throw up in the garbage and wipe my ass with her number.

Pic related, but prettier and less slutty.

Stupidly specific mode.

>I could not shit; I dared not poop:
>Therefore I lied to please the troop.
>Now all my poops are proved untrue

>>4355811
Douglas Adams maybe? I'm not that well read but the stuff I've understood on here was gold

>>4355811
Kingsley Amis?

>>4343746
The man unfastened his trousers and sat on the pure white bowl and strained against strain to push out his log and he groaned.
Holeee fuck y'all, this one gon' be a bleeder, he said.
It was indeed a bleeder and the man forgot to take off his MNSWs.

>>4356078
>MNSYs
my bad.

>>4356047
Winrar