I have a really bad history with poop. Animal poop. When I was younger I used to step in poop all the time. I mean like, ALL THE TIME. I don't know why. I never even had a dog to poop in my yard, so I don't even really know where I found all the stuff. Or where it found me. Or whatever. It all started one day when a horse took a poop on me. I was 11 and it was my first time horseback riding. Perhaps not suprisingly it was also my last time. Anyway, these were very tame horses. You just sat on them and they just walked in a line one after the other, there was no steering or anything. They were trained to follow the lead horse, but mine didn't want to. It kept trying to pass the lead horse, and the lead horse would block it off. So one time that happened, and the horses were standing side by side, with my horse farther back than the lead. It's difficult to picture, I know. But basically, it meant that my leg sticking off the side was pretty much stuck up the lead horse's butt. So just then it took a big old poop. It pooped on my knee and then dripped down my leg and into my shoe. Unfortunately there was nothing we could do about it, since we were on a trail in the woods. I just kind of stood it for twenty minutes or so until we got to the end of the trail and then I changed in the car. It was gross. The guide on the lead horse apologized a lot. After that I would just step in poop all the time. I always had to clean my shoes and my Mom would make me spray Lysol on them when I did. Now whenever I smell Lysol I think poop. Automatically. I probably always will. One time was much worse than the others. I got to school and something smelled bad. No one knew what it was. During homeroom before school, the teacher decided that someone must have left their lunch in their locker, so she went around and got a janitor to open them to check. While she was doing that I realized there was TONS of crap on the bottom of my shoe. Worse, I was kind of kneeling in my seat, sitting on my leg, so some was on my butt too. So I ran off to the bathroom and started scraping it off with a paper towel. It took forever and I couldn't get it all. I knew the bell was going to ring and I couldn't be late for class, so at the last minute I got desperate, stuck the bottom of my shoe in the toilet and started swishing it all around to get it off. Then before I left the bathroom I rubbed soap on the bottom of my shoe to try to cover the smell that was still there. I couldn't get it out of all the little spots in the treads. Of course soap on the bottom of your shoe is not good for walking and I almost fell on the way back to class. So then for the rest of the day the smell was there. The janitors decided something must be in the heaters or the heating system and spent all day looking. I was horribly embarrassed and couldn't tell anyone. I would always run to the bathroom in between classes and try to get more out from the treads in my shoe. I got so stressed out that someone would realize that I got all sweaty and shaky. At the end of the day one of my teachers wanted to send me to the nurse. It was really bad. When I got home I couldn't stand to clean it off any more so I just threw the shoes out and wore old ones to school the next day. I don't think anyone ever found out. That sort of thing would happen every few months it seemed. Not as bad, but I would step in poop and have to clean it off. It was a joke with my family. If we were out anywhere someone would yell "Shaun! Look out!" and I would get all freaked out that I stepped in something and they would laugh at me. Then there was a "grand finale" that seemed to end everything. My Junior year of high school I was still running Cross Country. The last week before the big race we all went down to a local (large) park (Borderland State Park) where the final meet would be. It was so we could practice on the course we were going to be running. We went on Monday and on Friday. Unfortunately, people often walked their dogs there. On Monday, we had all done the work-out fine, and were sitting in a big circle doing stretches. We started doing the one where you sit down with your legs straight in front of you and touch your toes. It is unfortunate looking back, but I am very stretchy and could grab my toes. So I grabbed ahold of my feet in front of me. Just then I heard someone say, "Kirk, what is that on your shoe!?" I realized my hand felt something squishy on the bottom of my shoe. I looked and there was poop on my fingers. I had stepped in it and then grabbed it doing stretches. So yeah, that was pretty bad. I had to go to the little crappy bathroom they had at the park and wash my hands really good, then pick stuff off the bottom of my shoe with a stick, since no one would let me in their car so we could drive back to the school with dog poop on my foot. It was really bad, but it got worse because we went back on Friday. We all went for a slow run on the course, so we could remember it and discuss strategy before the meet the next day. Then like before we all got in a big circle and did stretches. We got to the same stretch and someone said "Hey remember when Kirk stepped in shit?" Yeah, and everyone laughed, and I did too, though I was a little pissed. Then I sat down with my legs in front of me, and right before I could grab my foot the same damn kid as last time said, "Kirk, did you step in shit again!?" Yeah, I did. Same shoe. Only this time I got so pissed I tore the shoe off, threw it and started screaming "Fuck!" My coach was horrified because I was such a good kid and she told me to calm down (there were a lot of people around, families and such). I just got pissed and walked away from the stretches to go clean it. My coach later said she could never imagine that I got that angry since I was quiet all the time. After that point I have only stepped in poop once, and it wasn't so bad. For some reason that cross country thing seemed to end it all. And I'm really fucking glad about that. THE END