An Epic Battle

4 Sep

When people mention great battles that have been fought through the history of time, there are a few that immediately spring to mind; David and Goliath, Gettysburg, Waterloo and Stalingrad to name but a few. However, there is one battle that leaps straight to the forefront of my mind; a battle that lasted almost an hour and a half and that left one man a worn, tearful but eventual hero. A battle that defines courage and guts; that shows what one man can do if he is determined enough. The battle I’m talking about is my mate Ashley versus his bowels, when he fought for 90 minutes to avoid shitting his own pants.

It was a Saturday afternoon and my brother, cousin, Ashley and I were playing football on the green outside the front of my house. I think I must have been about 14 at the time. We had two goals set up and were playing 2 on 2, using a very small football. Every now and again, I’d run across to the front window and peer through at the TV so I could check the latest football scores, which would disrupt the flow of the game. We also had to stop whenever a car went passed as we had a tendency to be a bit wayward with our shots. However, these small pauses in the afternoon’s fun were nothing compared to the waiting around we had to do when Ashley’s battle began.

As I ran towards goal with the ball, I saw Ashley approaching me, defending his goal. As I neared him, I thought about an early shot, but decided that I’d try and take it passed him before slotting the ball into the goal. I was a couple of yards from him, when without warning, and quite hastily, Ashley dropped to the floor and lay face down on the grass. He was stretched out, but he crossed his ankles and I could see that he was clenching hard. Despite witnessing him fall down, I scored my goal and celebrated before we all gathered round him and peered down.

“What are you doing?”asked my brother. “You could have saved that”.

‘Bllllllaaaaaapp-a-flap-flap-flap-a-bbblaaap-flap-flap’

Ashley responded with one of the wettest farts I have ever heard. His hands quickly went from being flat out on the grass above his head, to cupping his bum cheeks. We all burst into laughter, apart from Ashley.

“Oh God, I really need a shit”
“Go to the toilet then”, I said.
“I won’t make it”, Ashley whimpered, his face still sunk into the grass.

‘Blllllaaaarrmmm-bup-bup-bup-blaaaapp-flap-a-flap’

Once again, Ashley let out a wet, meaty fart.

“That must have been more than just air that came out”, I joked, but Ashley didn’t laugh, he stayed where he was and let out a silent groan.

For the next ten minutes we just stood over Ashley, trying to make him go to the toilet, but he remained on the grass. Eventually, he made an effort to move, and slowly but surely, he got into a crouched position. As we egged him on, it looked like he’d finally got the beating of his bowels, but then he let rip with an almighty air biscuit that threatened the safety of all of our nostrils. He collapsed to the grass again and rolled back onto his stomach at a rather impressive rate.

“What the fuck are you doing?” we asked.
“It won’t come out if I’m like this. If I move I’m going to shit myself”. By now Ashley was beginning to panic. My cousin probably didn’t help his composure at all;
“Well it looks like you’ve got two options. Shit yourself now, or stay here all night and shit yourself in your sleep”.

Again, we all chuckled. How nice it was watching someone struggle to hold in an ever-nearing poo, I was so glad it wasn’t me.

As the battle went on, Ashley got braver. He nearly made it to a standing position quite a few times, but on each occasion, he’d fart loudly before collapsing to the floor again as if he’d been shot by a sniper. The game of football had been ended, and we were all sat down, chatting idly, occasionally stopping to go silent and watch Ashley’s efforts to make it the very short distance to my house, and then laughing as he guffed and fell down again. After about an hour, his face was purple, and he had made an imprint in the ground from where he’d been laying for so long. Still he fought the urge to soil himself. Bored, we started chanting, trying to help spur him on,

‘ASHLEY, ASHLEY, ASHLEY’ we sang in unison, but it was no use, he was still unable to make many movements.
Just when we were thinking of going in to get something to eat and leaving Ashley where he was, he spoke. His face turned to look at us,

“Get me a large stick”
“A stick?”
“Yes, and hurry”

For some reason, none of us asked questions despite being intrigued, and we went to a nearby tree to find a stick. Peering back at Ashley, I saw that he was still in the same position. I wonder what people looking from their houses must have thought he was up to. My thoughts were interrupted,

“Found one!” said my cousin.

We went back to Ashley and handed him the stick. It was about a metre long and five centimeters in diameter. Ashley rolled over onto his back and looked up at us.

“This is it; I’m going to make it now” he said, as if giving himself motivation. Still, none of us knew what he was up to but we watched excitedly, secretly hoping that he’d follow through eventually.
Ashley began to stand up again, and as before, farts flew out of him like he was a deflating whoopee cushion. Rather than collapse to the floor as before though, Ashley poked the stick through his shorts, into his sphincter and waited until he could move again. He was soon in a standing position, with the stick still held firmly in place and we were all in hysterics at what we were witnessing.

We watched as a determined Ashley waddled ever so slowly across the road and through my front door, punctuating his walk with farts that reverberated off of the stick. He was calm though, and taking his time, using the stick as a safety barrier. He had to stop every couple of paces and regain composure, but after an almighty struggle, he had made it into the house and to the toilet.
We cheered as the front door closed behind him, our eyes filled with tears of laughter. What we saw that day will never leave me; it was a true display of courage and determination. It was the talk of our group of friends for the next couple of weeks, and the stick was kept as a sort of souvenir – it rest on the green as a reminder of the event.

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