We all have our secrets, these people on the other hand, have some pretty messed up and dirty secrets.
Take That Mom And Dad!
“One of many.
My parents once falsely accused me of stealing their jewelry. They found it less than two minutes later and they never apologized.
I pissed in their bed later that day to get back at them.”
Never Living That One Down
“My ex-girlfriend got wasted one night and told me that she gave her brother a b—– the night before she left for college.
That’s enough of a secret to keep on its own, but there’s more. She ended up marrying one of my frat brothers and lives in my town. I see her almost every day.
That secret is still the first thing I think about when I see her and it has been 25 years since she told me.”
Getting Rid Of Business
“When I was young I had to s— but needed help wiping still but I knew dad wouldn’t help so for some reason I s— in the back yard behind the shed. Next day dad was going off about how the neighbours dog s— in the back yard and so he picked it up with a plastic bag and threw it over the fence….”
Fear Of Copyright
“One Fathers’s Day years ago I got a bag for the presents I bought for my dad. The bag had a picture attached that looked like a drawing a kid would have made of him and his dad sitting on a cliff with the words “Dads rock!” in handwriting that was actually pretty similar to mine. I jokingly crossed out the artists name and put my own. The day after Fathers’s day he called me while I was at my moms house and told me he was digging through the trash looking for some mail he threw away when he saw the bag again. Turns out he never noticed my “signature” at the bottom and said he loved that I went through the effort to make something for Father’s Day. For some reason I just went with it and said that I drew it.
He ended up taking it to a shop and framing it. He made a second copy and has kept it on the fridge for 9 years. He always brags about it to any guests that come over. It is my greatest fear that someday some one will recognize the drawing from a bag they bought at Target.”
Feeding The Birds
“I used to chew up a saltine cracker, spit it onto another saltine cracker and eat it.”
Living Like Gollum
“I ate a garbage grapefruit last week. Like from someone’s garbage. Like from some stranger’s office garbage.
I was cleaning some offices and there it was (guess my occupation!). In the trash. I don’t even know the occupant of the office.
I wasn’t even hungry. Something in me just decided that I had to eat this trashfruit.
I watched myself take it out of the garbage and was like “What am I doing? Am I really doing this? Oh my god I’m really doing this.”
So not only that, but even though the entire building was empty I hid in a closet at work and crouched over my precioussss and ate it.
It was the juiciest sweetest most delicious grapefruit I have ever had in my entire life.
I ate someone else’s trash in a dark closet posed like f—— Gollum.”
“Had been dating my boyfriend for a few months and stayed the night at the house he shared with a roommate. Despite a rumor that girls don’t poop, they do, and I had to. The poop that I took was massive. Massive enough that it wouldn’t flush causing pure panic. I debated between asking for a plunger or just jumping out the window and letting that be the end of it.
…….I ended up doing neither of those and instead grabbed the poop out of the toilet with a plastic grocery bag. My boyfriend’s roommate had two big dogs that would poop in the backyard so I took my bag of shit and emptied it out in the yard.”
“Me and my brother used to fart on my dad’s pillow when we were kids and it was hilarious.
Every night he would go to bed and his pillow would stink and he would blame the cat. Eventually he started hiding his pillow and to this day he doesn’t know.”
“I sneeze on the dogs. I’m so tired of them getting in my face and sneezing. I swear they’re doing it on purpose. Now when I feel a big one coming, I’ll call them over and reciprocate. My wife caught me one day. First time I’ve ever made her speechless.”
“Not me but my best friend in high school, for some reason or another thought that if he didn’t poop eventually his body would just absorb/digest 100% of the turd matter and make it into energy. Admittedly for about the first 3-5 days it was a painful battle but he was able to keep it all in him, after that the pains he was feeling sort of went away. Fast forward maybe a week or two, we go to Costco for lunch (buck fiddy hot dogs), and while were at a table eating I see a look of agonizing pain go across his face. He said he has to go the bathroom and that he’ll meet me outside… Now this is when s— gets real. He knew that at that moment his experiment had failed and that the time to release the poop was now. He got to a stall and started to push, except, it wasn’t all coming out. It had started normal enough, but very quickly his coil grew in diameter and he couldn’t push it past his rim anymore. He found out later that what had happened was that his poop had essentially dried up and hardened inside him coning out and forming a “reverse buttplug situation”. Knowing that this wasn’t going to come out on its own he somehow managed to crab walk from the toilet to the sink, take the mirror off the wall, place it in the floor, squat over it, and for sanitary concerns, wrapped his hands to his elbows in toilet paper. At this point he assumed the position, grabbed on with both hands and with a violent push/pull technique, released the plug of pressure and everything else that was built up behind it and instantly passes out. This is where I re-enter the story. After almost an hour of waiting in a Costco parking lot I go to the customer service desk, inform them that my friend has been in the bathroom for a long time, And that maybe someone should check on him. I was greeted with a very odd look from an old lady at the counter who then followed me to the restroom with a set of keys. I then open the door to see my best friend face down on a mirror, pant around his ankles, blood and s— EVERYWHERE, with half of his arms wrapped up like a bad mummy costume on Halloween. Needles to say paramedics were called, he had a concussion from hitting the floor, and needed multiple stitches in the a–hole. Then he had to explain to his parents/doctors/Costco managers what happened, And why he thought not pooping was a good idea. But because I was a good friend when everyone asked why he wasn’t at school for a week, I said we got drunk off of a shot of every bottle in my parents liquor cabinet (so nothing looked empty) climbed a tree in my back yard, and that he fell and landed on the fence.”
Snot And Ham Sandwich
“Ran out of tissues, blew my nose in a ham sandwich.”
The Bully Gets Pranked
“I was bullied in highschool. Every time I buy a bottle of coke, the bully would take it from me and drink it. He did it a lot of times and I was just fed up from his BS.
Since then, I pee in the coke bottle and shake it up for a bit, I wash the bottle with water in the restroom so it won’t smell like pee.
Then, I gave the coke to the a—— and he drank it. This thing continued until we graduated.”
Long Distance Chats
“When I was about fifteen, I had an online boyfriend that was about thirteen. He’d call me really late at night and get me to tell him dirty things. Now, this was back around the turn of the millennium and long distance calls were pricey.
He told me that his mom was going to be having surgery soon and that he might not be able to call as much because him, his brother, or his dad would probably be on the phone a lot. Didn’t think anything of it.
Until I got a phone call from his number in the middle of the day. It was his mom. She’s screaming at me demanding to know which one of her two sons has been calling this number and wanting to talk to my parents. I knew his brother too but didn’t talk to him as much, so I admitted it was Justin.
His mom was going on and on about how she couldn’t afford a several hundred dollar phone bill when her surgery was the next day and was going to cost a ton. I apologized and she started to calm down somewhat and told me to never talk to her kids again.
She cut off the phone and Internet and I never saw either of the boys online again. Dudes, I’m so sorry and I hope your mom didn’t kill you.”
A Terrible Nightmare
“About 10 yrs ago I began working for a prestigious consulting firm. I’m originally from a small southern town and never exactly fit the mold of my co-workers. I wasn’t quite as classy to say the least… A few months after I started, the senior partner threw a Christmas party. As was typical on Friday afternoons, I met with a few co-workers for lunch at a small neighborhood pub to share lunch and a pitcher of Guinness. I decided it was a good idea to have a Philly cheesesteak at this time. MISTAKE 1… The party was to begin at 4pm and the office would shutdown early. As I live 87 miles from the office, I couldn’t go home before the party. I waited the requisite 15 mins after 4 and then drove over to the party. I pull up in front of this massive house in my crummy truck and park in front of the door. MISTAKE 2. I ring the doorbell to find I’m the first to arrive, not to mention the valets have not yet arrived. Seriously, who the f— has valets at their home? I’m WAY out of my element here Donnie… After a very awkward 30 mins, the other guests begin to arrive and I calm down a bit. Around the same time, the food is served. It’s quite the spread and eating is one thing I can do that isn’t attempting to interact with those “above my station.” The food selections are wide and varied and I attempt to try every item. Pad Thai, meatballs, wings, caviar, smoked salmon, cheeseball, and other items of black death. After roughly 20 minutes, I remember my Philly cheesesteak and Guinness from earlier, along with all the sludge I’ve just ingested. Three glasses of wine haven’t helped by this point either. My stomach is in knots and cramping. I know it will be bad. I stealthily make an effort to find a restroom and determine the only bathroom available to guests in this massive home is a tiny nook on the edge of the sitting room. This also happens to be the room where literally EVERYONE is currently chatting quietly. *Insert massive stomach rumble here. It’s apparent this isn’t a “wait it out” situation and it has become necessary to ninja s— in the tiny nook bathroom. As I walk to the restroom I have to excuse myself around another partner and his wife standing outside the entrance to the restroom. Who does that? Who stands outside the d— restroom? Fecal freak? No matter, I forge onward. It’s obvious to me by now that my s— will not be a tidy loaf but rather the remnants of a chemical spill. I gather all the gumption I can muster and pull off a masterful ninja s—. The scent is at a manageable level and I flush before it spreads. Success. A wave of relief washes over me as I clean up and head out the door. As I open the door, I notice the same a—— and his wife still standing there. A——. I move along into another room and chat with a few coworkers quietly, satisfied that the nightmare is over. Around this time, the final partner in the firm arrives with his children. His youngest child immediately makes a B line to me and sits in my lap. I have never met this child before and it’s awkward this 3 yr old has singled me out to say the least. I chat with the tot a few moments before the partner comes over. I ask “How old is she?” since the idiot child would answer none of my questions. MISTAKE 3.The partner responds, “HE is 3.” Seriously? This outfit looks like a f—— dress, the kid has longer hair than half the women in attendance but, I’m the a—— right? The realization of my mistake was accompanied with panic. As you know, panic tends to arrive with his old pal upset stomach. At that moment I let out a silent fart that could have peeled paint. The tiny shemale in my lap turns and says, “Ooh, you pooted.” loud enough for all in attendance to hear. Thanks munchkin Rupaul…. I toss the kid aside and head back to the host’s attempt to make it into the Guinness book of world records for world’s smallest and least private restroom. Guess who is standing outside the door? That’s right, he is now my nemesis. I don’t even apologize for pushing past them this time. This will be less of a ninja s— and more of a juggernaut. I try to ease it out slowly but, am unsuccessful. Picture Jeff Daniels in Dumb and Dumber. I immediately regret every morsel of food I’ve ever eaten. I pray to any God who will listen to make the black fire of death coming from my a—— cease. No one listens. I alone must endure… Eventually I have emptied my bowels completely. I’m covered in sweat and the indoor porta john smells like a truckload of dead possums in August. As I snap back to reality, I realize where I am and the gravity of my impending walk of shame hits me. There is no way those in the next room haven’t heard exactly what I’ve been up to. I dread opening the door but, I can’t go out the window. It must be done. As I exit, my nemesis is longer at his post. He has been defeated. It almost makes the whole thing worth it. Almost… as I turn the corner, I notice I am the focus of attention. I nod shamefully and move into the next room. I say a quick farewell to the tiny shemale’s father and make my exit. There is my s—- truck parked right in front of the door. Everyone else is parked neatly to one side. The valets look at me and give a disapproving nod. At this point, I figure how much worse can it get really… At that exact moment, my stomach gives out a banshee scream. Great… again… I tear down the driveway and speed at a fever pitch to the closest gas station around 10 miles away. It’s a full service truck stop (showers, etc) and filled with truckers. I burst into a stall and release h— fire. Suddenly the busy restroom falls silent. I have got their attention… After another round of chemical warfare, I’m eventually able to exit the stall to the stares of 5 truckers. All of whom applaud. These are my people. I bow and take my leave. I make my way home without further incident to lick my wounds.”
A Secret Life
“I’m the other woman.
Full disclosure though. He didn’t tell me he was married until a year into our relationship.”
“Sometimes when my girlfriend is sleeping, I pull down my pants, expose my hairy arse to her face and unleash a devilish fart – making sure that I load up on the carbohydrates beforehand so that it is particularly pungent.”
“When my grandmother was a teenager, she and her mother hid 5 Jews in her home. Next, the Resistance dumped another 11 or 12 Jewish children on her. One of them was a 12-year-old boy. He was the only boy in the group. He was a psychopath. He hit the Jewish girls and stole food from them. He was very rude to my grandmother and repeatedly threatened to snitch on her to the Nazis. At first he threatened to snitch to get more food. His demands got more and more outrageous as time went on. At last, he demanded that they provide him with a suit. What did he want a f—— suit for?! That was the last straw. My grandmother murdered him. Maybe she was under the impression that killing him would save the little girls he was abusing. Not so. They ran off and probably starved to death. Only 2 or 3 of them survived the war. Grandma mostly failed.
This story makes me want to puke.”
That One Family Member…
“That I don’t like my oldest child. I love her, I always will. But I really, really don’t like her. By far, the most toxic person I’ve ever known, drama filled, a full on pathological liar who makes stuff up about the family, bad decisions that affect everyone, so many personal offences that I couldn’t begin to list them. She is the cruelest, meanest, most vindictive person I have ever known. How she came from our family is an absolute mystery. No one else is anything like her and one by one we are all distancing ourselves from this train wreck. We have ALL, every one of us, tried to support her/love her/help her. Each has been burned or been left dazed and confused by her words and actions. Her aunts, uncles, cousins will not communicate, her siblings have said “no more”, her father is frustrated and confused. I have been her only ally and support, and now I am done. She finally did something that crossed the line and was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I can’t talk to her, even to tell her I can’t talk to her. She frightens me.”
To Each Their Own
“…Sometimes the bathroom is just too far away in this big ol house and I pee in the cat’s litterbox.”