OK, this post involves poop, so consider yourself warned, but I'll try to refrain from being graphic, so unless you have some moral or religious objection to going number 2 (or "deucing", as it were), hopefully you can read on.
It's last Saturday night. We've all just come home from the bar, and as usual, several people are sleeping on our couches. I'm the last one up, playing some Wii Mario Kart and drinking enough water to hopefully ward off a hangover before I head to bed. It's not working.
Finally, I give up and stumble into the bathroom to brush my teeth… and there it is. A deuce, sitting alone in the toilet. Without a scrap of toilet paper to be found.
How did this happen? Did somebody actually do that, and then find some other way of disposing of the toilet paper, like in the garbage can (gross), or in the other, downstairs toilet (why?). These are all just excuses, of course, for me to avoid the obvious truth: somebody took a shit and then was so drunk they forgot to wipe.
With revolted quickness I flush it down and run from the bathroom, hoping that in my state of poor memory, maybe the shocking image will be gone from my brain by morning, and everything will be back to normal. But the image haunts my dreams all night: that lonesome deuce, sitting all by itself in its porcelain bed, poking its little head out of the water, watching me.
In the morning, I go downstairs and find the usual pre-brunch group of 8 or 10 of our friends sitting on the couch, trying to gather enough momentum to choose a restaurant to munch their hangovers away. I know the altruistic thing to do would be to never tell anyone about this, and take the horrible secret of the paperless log with me to my grave. But the world has to know. I can't bear this burden alone. Also, it's far too hilarious not to tell everybody I see.
As expected, my friends are appropriately grossed-out/loving it. But this reaction quickly gives way to a more pressing reaction: who did it? The mystery is on.
"Wait, so you were the last one up?" said Gabe, my lawyer roommate. "Who was the last one to pass out before you?"
"Molly, I think. On the couch behind me. Everyone else went to sleep a little before that."
"Did you see anyone go upstairs to use the bathroom?" continued Priscilla, in the middle of a game of Dr. Mario.
"I assume everyone did. I don't really know, I was kind of in the middle of getting my ass kicked on Wario's Gold Mine."
"Well who was the last person you're sure used it?"
"I dunno. I guess… Molly."
Molly, who had been elbow-deep in writing new Taboo cards for an impending game, suddenly jolted up. "Whoa! Are you saying it was me!?"
"I don't know Molly," said Gabe. "Do you remember leaving a loaf in the bathroom and then not wiping?"
"No! I don't even remember how I got here, from the bar!"
"So it could have been you."
"It couldn't have been Molly," interjected Sam. "She's a girl."
"Girls don't poop?" asked Gabe.
"No," said Sam. "Girls drizzle honey."
"I do NOT drizzle honey!" said Molly. "But I don't go to the bathroom and not wipe, either."
"Molly, we're not saying it was you," I said. "Other people slept in the house last night too – it could have been Sam, or Gabe, or Josh, or Priscilla, or even me, in some kind of split-personality, psycho-thriller movie twist."
"Have you ever done anything like this before, Molly?" inquired Gabe.
Molly paused. "Not that I know of…" she said after a moment.
"Maybe there's some other explanation," said Priscilla. "Maybe somebody snuck into the house, pooped, and then left without wiping themselves. Maybe it was prank."
"That would be an AWESOME prank," said Josh.
"Or maybe it was one of those two-flush deuces," I proposed. "Like when you go so huge that you have to flush it twice, once for the turd and once for the TP?"
"What, and they wiped first and turded second?" said Sam, skeptical.
"Maybe they dropped it and wiped so fast that the toilet paper was gone and flushed before the log even hit the water," I ventured.
"You're a retard," said Gabe.
"Wait!" said Molly. "Maybe somebody deuced, couldn't find any toilet paper, and walked with their pants down to the downstairs bathroom, where they wiped and flushed!"
"Or maybe," said Priscilla, "Somebody deuced, then got so excited about an idea they had in the middle of it that they ran out of the house and forgot all about it!
"Or maybe," said Molly, really getting into it, "maybe somebody broke into the house while we were out, deuced, then got heard us coming home, and hid before they could wipe. Maybe they're STILL IN THE HOUSE SOMEWHERE, listening to this conversation with their poopy-butt!"
"Or maybe," said Gabe, calmly "one of you guys just pooped and were so drunk you forgot to wipe."
"Coulda been you, too," I said, defensively.
"I suppose it could," said Gabe.
"Wait a minute," said Molly. "It couldn't have been me – I deuced at the bar! I remember, because I stole Paul's idea to tip the bathroom attendant afterwards and then steal half his counter-candy!"
The group all looked at each other. This was true. Back to the drawing board.
The Case of the Unclaimed Poop continues...