The boy who pooped his pants.

I was in the first grade and I sat beside this guy. I don’t remember what he looked liked or anything. But to this day, I still remember what he did.

So we were in class this one day, and about halfway through the day, the class started to stink. Of poo. Me and this guy were sitting at the back of the class, but even from there the teacher could smell it. Funny thing is, I don’t remember smelling anything really. Eventually, the smell became bad enough for the teacher to spray air fresheners all over the classroom. Nevertheless, the stink…persisted.

At one point, the guy sitting beside me goes up to the teacher to hand in his work or something, and as he’s walking back to his seat, the teacher must have noticed something sagging in the butt of his pants. So the teacher asks him if he pooped his pants. Needless to say, he did.

So he went to the clinic and changed his pants and came back. Now you would think, as I did at the time, that the poo saga ends here. But you would be, as I was, dead wrong.

This last part of the story, I remember vividly. The school bell rang, and we all got up to go home, and so did my seatmate. I was ready to walk away when I saw it. From the leg openings of his shorts, the poo plunged. It was a small one, but it fell so gracefully, it missed not only the cloth of his shorts, but also his thighs and legs, and splashed right on his white shoes forming a small, but impressively round orange circle. By this point, the smell that was non-existent for me, became a nose-wrenching reality.That’s all I remember. I don’t remember the aftermath of it, but I remember this particular part well.

Pooping your pants in school is such an embarrassing memory. I genuinely don’t remember if I have ever done it before. Maybe I have and my brain blocked out the memory of it. I hope this guy’s brain does so too. Or hopefully, he has recovered from this traumatic experience and will never repeat it again. Cheers, seatmate. Wherever you are.