Klass Digest Group

I

was born Robert Joseph Samson. My parents just loved the name Robert since they both were fans of Robert Downey Junior. My middle name came from the surrogate father of Christ; the man that raised a child, not of his own loins, but somehow conceived in the "Virgin Mary." Between you and me, raising someone else’s child is no big deal, but accepting your devoted wife for allowing another to impregnate her blows my mind!

I digress. And Samson is my surname, which the origins for are quite unique. You see, the spelling is Samson, which is biblical and derived from the Hebrew word Shimshon. Pretty cool huh?! My parents are quite creative people. They believe in the idea of spiritualism, but not the political aspect classified as religion. They also never forced me to believe as they do, which most kids don't have the luxury to claim. I am very lucky in that regard. My parents partake in some interesting activities, but since they don't judge me for what I choose to do with my life, I don't judge them either. That leads me to the purpose of this journal entry.

When I was fourteen, something very strange happened. I know it is going to sound very peculiar and far-fetched, but I need to share it with the world so that I might find someone to explain it to me. I want to understand what happened, because the things I've read that sort of describe what happened to me, well, it's way different and quite graphic at times. As I said already, the first time it happened to me, I was fourteen. I was at school watching the clock count down for the final bell, because I had to take a massive shit. It was causing me belly-cramping like maybe I ate something that was going to cause an explosive evacuation of excrement. When that bell sounded, I walked as fast as I could to the classroom door, so I wasn't stopped by the teacher and held after class. I skipped my locker that day and continued my fast-paced walk through the halls and out the main doors. Teachers and office staff were everywhere, watching students and ensuring order in the vicinity, so my brisk walk continued until I reached the sidewalk.

Once my feet touched the public property that was the sidewalk, I took off like a demon on a mission. I ran for home, all-the-while clenching my poop-pincers tightly together. Y'all call them "butt-cheeks," but I grew up renaming some things based on their purpose. It was just more logical to me, and my parents didn't seem to mind it. I am a very fast runner, and on that day, I think I was the fastest. I got home faster than I ever did. In fact, I don't rightly recall most of the trip since I was focused on holding my crap in my body. I came in through the front door and slammed it shut behind me, hearing my mother shout, "DON'T SLAM THE DOOR," as I rushed to the bathroom. I am so thankful I didn't have any siblings to share the one and only bathroom our house had with, since like clockwork, my father was sitting on the toilet for his daily constitution as he referred to it when I got home. "DAD, I need to go bad!" I shouted through the door. I heard the newspaper rustle a bit. "It's a process. You can't rush perfection, son." He replied as I felt my legs going numb. "MOM," called for help as I knew that I could not contain the violence that was yearning to come soon. My mother came to my call and after witnessing my anguish knocked on the bathroom door. "Can you hurry, sweetie? Bobby looks to be in pain out here." She was the greatest. "Wiping now, dear." My father replied to his one and only true boss and soulmate. I heard the toilet flush and then the water in the faucet turned on. I knew he was washing his hands, but the turtle was pushing his head out and I was not able to hold it back much longer. The moment my father opened the door and leaned out to kiss my mother, I pushed between them and rushed inside. My father had not turned off the fan or completely exited the bathroom.

My mother was not offended by his fowl stench, at least not through her expressions. I dropped my pants and underwear before they had finished their brief show of affection, and the true pain began. I grunted through it as whatever I ate was pounding at my backdoor, but unable to fit through it. "This is why you need to eat more salads," my mother said as she looked from my father to my anguish. My face was red as I fought to push the painful, over-sized excrement out of my bowels. My father left with his paper and my mother smiled at me lovingly before closing the door for me. What happened next, I don't quite understand.

It's fowl and disgusting to boot, but I had to document it. That painful turtlehead poked out and finally erupted from my heinous anus. It felt like it was holding itself in the doorway for dear life and finally lost its mean grip as it was ejected from my body by some powerful force that echoed from the toilet bowl with a triumphant release of obnoxiously fowl gas. It was at the moment of release that my vision changed. One moment I was opening my eyes at the moment of release and then I felt like I was falling and saw that I was falling. I saw the gristle of my dirty asshole in front of my face as though I was the turd expelled from my bowels. Then I splashed down into cold water, unable to speak or move. I floated briefly as I saw my ass slide from the toilet above. My body went limp and fainted, falling from its perch, and slamming to the floor. Then, my sight flashed. Instead of blacking out, it was like a flash knockout and then I opened my eyes again to find myself back in my body. I was on the cold, dirty linoleum floor next to the toilet, where I could see condensation forming on the gooseneck below the bowl.

My mother and father crashed through the door to find me lying motionless, but conscious. "Dear God, what did you eat?!" My father gasped. "Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" My mother never stopped when she came to my rescue. I was in shock from what had just transpired and failed to answer either of them at first. "I'm okay," claimed as I picked myself up and sat back down on the toilet. "You're being over-dramatic, I see," my father toyed as he walked away laughing. "You're having salad tonight with your dinner. No arguing about it." My mother declared. I had no problems with salad, but I was a teenager and loved my carbs and protein. "Fine," I said as she cast me a loving glance before exiting and closing the door once more. If anyone can explain this experience, I would love to hear your insight. I have been reading about outer-body experiences ever since that day, with no luck finding anything remotely close to my experiences.