Pooping my pants

Well, I figured I would start out with a brief story from about two months ago that explains very well exactly my luck in life (take it as you will). My boyfriend's nieces who happen to live with him had all caught some form of the flu. I was worried I was going to get it, so I only stayed part of the weekend before leaving to go back to my house up in Logan. I was feeling okay until the evening when I got back and even when I did start to feel a bit "off" I kept telling myself that it was all in my head.
To say the least, come 1:30am it was NOT in my head. I hit the bathroom at record speed and then had a momentary dilemma of which way to hit the toilet; head or rear first. I went with the rear and this was the obvious right choice judging from what followed. I proceeded to sit on the toilet until about 4am having intermittent spurts of very awful bodily functions out one end or the other.
Let me just tell you that these were the roughest threeish hours of my life. I didn't want to go into great detail, but I think it must be explained simply to put it all into perspective. It began with a normal routine of a movement and a wipe. Soon, however, the chaffing began and the burning sensation followed. After about the first four of those cycles, the burning sensation got to the point where even with applying neosporin after each wipe in-between movements, there was still no relief. After about the first hour it was as though a lighter was being held to my butt cheeks everytime I sat down and the acidic projections would aggrevate the raw skin to the point of feeling like knives in my bum. Soon the pain was so great that I then began to puke because of it. So two hours into this whole episode I had now become a true "switchhitter" on the toilet. About a half hour into that, I then began to shower with cold water to clean myself rather than attempt to wipe the burning embers that had become my butt cheeks. And so it proceeded until 4am: toilet bum first, cold shower, toilet head first, and the incessant burning and pain.
Luckily this had all quieted down for the most part in time for me to curl up in my bed and grab about two hours of sleep before getting up to go to class. Well, all day long went pretty well until about noon when I had to go sit in a computer lab and take some assessment test. Roughly half way through this test, I began to have some churning feelings in my stomach again. I was a bit worried, but honestly though that it was just gas cramps and it would all be relieved as soon as I could reach my car. I finished the test, made it to my car, and began to release the gas to my major relief. I was relieved, that must have been it, and so, hoping for one last release, I let out one last squeak that turned out to be the kicker. I guess you could say the last one of the string was a "shart." So began my drive home, leaning on one butt cheek so as not to mush the unknown contents in my underwear further through to my pants. So I guess you could say it was awkward and uncomfortable and so perhaps I was going a little faster than I should have. I survived the ten minute drive up until the point where I could see my townhouse from the last stop sign of the journey. So, with the excitement of getting home I suppose I didn't really stop at the stop sign but I did "totally pause" (to quote the best movie ever, Clueless). Well, the policeman hiding on the side street evidently did not agree that a pause was enough, and proceeded to pull me over in front of my complex.
He arrived at my window, with me basically leaning out of it, in the attempt to keep the situation in my pants from progressing any further. The whole normal pull-over began with if I knew what I had done, if I usually stopped, etc. I responded abruptly with yes, sir, I did roll that stop sign, but to be honest I shit my pants and was just trying to get home to rectify the situation at hand, and I live right there as I point at the beckoning door to my house. I'm not sure he thought I was serious, but it was the truth, and all that I had to offer. He let me off with no further questions and parted with a simple "well, I'll let you go get that taken care of, but please make sure to stop at all stop signs in the future." I thankfully pulled away and arrived in my house. Everything was taken care of, and the day went on. I guess now I know a good excuse if I ever get pulled over again. But, honestly, what are the chances of THAT ever happening, to ANYONE? prob, pretty slim, but it did.