Room 754
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I had just moved in to my freshman dorm with my best bro of like 6 years. We were 19 and fucking cool as fuck! Party every day and slaying ass all night. We've double donged many a lucky broad in our time as bros. "Chinese finger cuffs" all day, bitches!
Anyway, where was I? Oh, right: we moved in. So this dickhead RA comes to greet us with bullshit like "no smoking buds, no drinking til you pass out, no loud partying." We're like whatever bro. Lick our stinky meat poles. But then this asshole brings up some crazy shit: he's like "you bros are in the "Diarrhea Room" this year."
We're like "da fuck you sayin', man?"
He's like "yea, last year the dudes that bunked up here shit themselves almost on a nightly basis."
"What? Get the fuck out of here, man," my buddy says.
Dickface is like "nah, it's true bro. People say this room is cursed."
Yea whatever. We're fucking college freshmen here and this guy thinks we're gonna be spraying in our pants? I'm like "Dude, I haven't shit myself since I was a baby. Get the hell on with that shit." So that asshole leaves and we get ourselves unpacked.
The first week went off pretty awesome I must say. We partied nightly, met some drunk girls and got BJs almost every other night. It pretty much was just us: living the life.
Then shit started getting real.
The first time it happened my roomie and best bro (we'll call him Ryan cuz that's his fucking name) decided to go back to this slut's room to slip her the long and hard. I was drunk as fuck and didn't feel like dippin my wick in anything this particular evening so I went home. I passed out in my bed shortly after getting back to the dorm and when I woke up I was covered in creamy brown shit. I mean, it was all over. Oozing out my cargo shorts, all over my legs and back, in my fucking hair... That shit was not chill at all. I showered and simply chalked it up to drunkenness and the left over Taco Bell I scarfed when I had gotten home earlier.
The next time it happened Ryan and I were both in the dorm. It was a pretty mellow night for us. We ordered dinner from this grimy looking Indian place a few blocks off campus. It wasn't the cleanest place around but it was the spicyest, hottest shit in town. Spicy stuff fucking rules. So later on that night Ryan and I were on our laptops checking out some porno, which is a totally heterosexual activity for bros that are as close as us. Fuck you; don't judge me. It's not like we were jackin off together. Just in the same room. Eye contact was minimal.
So anyway, as I'm crankin away my stomach starts feeling strange. It's gurgling and churning and I feel gassy. I sharted.
I look at Ryan and he's holding his stomach and making a stink face.
Ryan sharted.
We both jump up to run for the Bathroom. As soon as we get to our feet our asses explode and start spraying liquid shit everywhere.
And it burned. It burned so hard.
So like, this happened a few more times over the next few weeks. Sometimes Ryan shit himself and sometimes I did. Sometimes we both did but always in that fucking room.
Room 754.
The "Diarrhea Room".
It all came to a head (haha "head") one night when Ryan and I were hitting on this drunk ass senior chick at a party off campus. We had been pounding Jagger-bombs all night and this chick was looking to get nasty. "Chinese finger cuffs", bros!
So the three of us head back to the dorm for a little dick-dick-chick action and on the way Stevie (that's the sorority sluts name. Just like my favorite chick rocker Stevie Nicks) suggests we stop for a couple breakfast burritos from the local Mobil station at the end of the block. Great idea because we really want the fuel to pound that ass all fucking night. The burritos hit the spot and we finally made it back to room 754 to get our fuck on.
Back at the room things were going great. Stevie was making out with Ryan's meat pole and i was buried deep in her box or her ass or whatever (I was pretty hammered).
Then it happened.
Ryan farted hard. I let out a tiny shart followed by a massive fart like I've never encountered before. Ryan and I looked at one another in complete horror. This CAN NOT happen right now. Not. Fucking. Now.
Just then Stevie let out a ripper that shook me to my core. Literally. I fell back over the bed covered in Stevie's rancid ass milk (chocolate milk is more like it). I was on the floor caked in shit and spewing from my ass like a fire hose. Ryan was firing ass rockets at the wall and Stevie continued to paint my bed in a thick coat of stink cream.
When it was all over we just sat there looking at each other in disgust. None of us could understand what the fuck just happened. The shame and embarrassment in the room was thick. Almost as thick as the shit. Finally, I had to break the silence.
"Hey, I guess that's why they call 754 the 'Diarrhea Room'," I said.
"Yea sorry Stevie. You're a chill ass chick, we should have warned you," Ryan chimed in.
Stevie started laughing. Softly at first and then she just started laughing her ass off.
"Uh, sorry to break it to you guys but 754 isn't the 'Diarrhea Room', that's 654. It's directly below you."
What the fuck?!
"But why are we always shitting ourselves in here?" I asked.
She's like "ummm, maybe cuz you're always blackout drunk and all you eat is shitty food."
I guess that makes sense.
Credited to PoopymanV
Originally uploaded on October 22, 2014
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