A second year Otago University student, went to a friend’s birthday party in North Dunedin, where she managed to pull. She took a guy back to her Castle Street flat where they did the ‘nasty’ before she drunkenly passed out, blissfully ignorant of what was yet to come.
In the middle of the night, however, our sozzled hero woke up, with the funny feeling that her leg was a bit wet. Worried that she had pissed the bed while drunk, she snuck to the bathroom to investigate. What she found will no doubt be burned into her brain for the rest of her life.
Her entire right leg was completely coated in excrement from the waist down to her knee. She (obviously) began freaking out and checked “between her cheeks”, to her relief though, she was clean and “dingleberry free”.
Reasonably deciding that the next course of action should be washing the shit off herself, she jumped in the shower and came up with a plan for dealing with the ‘shit-nation’. Unfortunately, being drunk makes planning quite difficult, so she decided it was it was a problem for sober her to deal with before crashing out in her flatmate’s empty bed.
Waking from her drunken slumber she shot up after the horrific events of last night came back to her. She rushed upstairs and pulled open the door to his room.
The English language fails to describe the smell that met me. I was hit by an odour wave so powerful that I recoiled back a step, like when you open the oven door to a face full of steam. The smell overwhelmed my entire consciousness for a few moments, when I snapped out of the pungent daze I poked my head through the open door… carnage. Total Carnage.
She immediately began screaming for her roommate who bounded into the room and spotted the diarrhea disaster. They both began pissing themselves with laughter, clearly, the fumes had gotten to them. It was only when the roommate spotted his towel covered in shit in the middle of the room that the two pieced together what had happened.
The guy had clearly over-indulged the night before and ‘relieved himself’ in his sleep, all over the poor scarfies bed. At some point, he obviously woke up, mortified at what had happened, and ran off before anybody could notice.
Back upstairs, I gingerly crawled across my bare mattress to sniff where the main pile had lain. A lungful of shit told me that the mattress was also soiled through. Solution? Bread knife. I spent a good half an hour manically sawing through the fabric and inner material to remove the soaked half before I flipped the mattress. Good as new.
The girl only knows this guy as Dave, and she is trying her hardest to track him down so he can purchase her some new sheets this weekend at Briscoes sale.