Locked in the Garage

I don't know why it never occurred to me to post this story here, as it is an absolutely amazing one I think all Exes would enjoy.

So, I share a house with two other people, let's call them Mary & Sara. Mary and I have been great friends for a very long time, and we all get along pretty well together. I am an Ex-Scientologist. Mary did have some contact with the Co$ through myself but decided it wasn't for her right off the bat, and Sara has never had any experience with them.

If you were to look at our house from the street, you would see that the garage is underneath the house and theres a downward-sloping driveway into the garage. Essentially, the garage is in the basement. On the door in the basement to the garage, the door itself has a regular deadbolt as well as a heavy-duty door guard swing bar latch thingymabob.

Our garage is full of stuff that random people have left there because it's been sort of a temporary housing situation for a lot of people over the last ten years. We mostly just use it to store our extra stuff, and to smoke in when it's raining.

One night, Mary and I went down into the garage to smoke a cigarette because it was raining really hard outside. When we both got into the garage, we closed the door to the house to keep the smoke out, and opened the garage door to let the smoke out that way.

Before we were even done smoking, Mary looks at me and says, "Man. I gotta take a shit."

And I'm like, "Well, then. Go do it."

And when she attempts to open the door back into the house.... Uh-oh.

The latch had somehow slipped back over itself. We were locked out of every other room in the house except for the garage.

Hah, calling our other roommate to come save us was out of the picture as she had just flown down to Texas to visit family. Our landlord was also out of town for the holidays. (This happened back in December. It was a Christmas affair!) We had no friends who lived in the area. And my partner, who is usually up that late and willing to drive, was stuck at home, chugging down Nyquil trying to fight off a terrible cold.

So, I tried in vain for about ten minutes to break down the door into the house. I tried slamming my entire body weight against the door numerous times, and the latch would just NOT budge. This whole time, Mary's explosive gastrointestinal issues were becoming more and more uncomfortable for her, and she started doing this anxious dance. She just could NOT sit still.

The quicker she danced, the more I knew time was running out for her to make it to a proper place to do her duty.

Mary groaned as she pressed the button to close the garage door so no one could see into the garage.

"Hand me that bucket!" She exclaimed. I looked over to my right and saw this old bucket full of weird old tools. I dumped it out on the ground and handed it over to her.

In less time than it would take to count to three, Mary had dropped trou' and was releasing her troubled bowels into the bucket.

I plugged my nose, and I gagged, and yes, it is really gross and weird. I was not having a good time. Neither was Mary.

She looked at me with a panicked but sad look on her face.

"I need something to wipe with," she said.

I looked around. I didn't have much stored in the garage except for old toys I had as a kid, and I wasn't about to give up my childhood stuffed animal collection for her ass.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed three white boxes that I had previously overlooked.

Immediately, I dug out my copy of "Dianetics."

"Here, Mary. Your ass can read about engrams." She reached out and grabbed the page.

Wipe.

And every time she needed a new page, bam. There I was with another bit of Dianetics for her.

Somewhere around the corner, wherever she abandoned the bucket when it was all over with (I don't really know what happened. I didn't really ask. I don't really want to know.) there is a bucket full of diarrhea and pages about psychosomatic illness, jumping off of milk crates to attempt abortion, prenatal engrams, and directions on how to perform a Dianetics auditing session. Essentially, where they belong.

Whenever we go down to the garage these days, I still chuckle every time I see that ripped apart copy of Dianetics.

Also, by some sort of miracle (probably all those OT powers I've attained from auditing! Cough) one of the creepy old tools that was in the bucket in the first place worked just fine in busting the latch off. We went back into the house and had a pretty good laugh.

The end!
 

Bee Sting

Patron with Honors
I don't know why it never occurred to me to post this story here, as it is an absolutely amazing one I think all Exes would enjoy.

(snip)
The quicker she danced, the more I knew time was running out for her to make it to a proper place to do her duty.

"Hand me that bucket!" She exclaimed. I looked over to my right and saw this old bucket full of weird old tools. I dumped it out on the ground and handed it over to her.

In less time than it would take to count to three, Mary had dropped trou' and was releasing her troubled bowels into the bucket.

I plugged my nose, and I gagged, and yes, it is really gross and weird. I was not having a good time. Neither was Mary.

She looked at me with a panicked but sad look on her face.

"I need something to wipe with," she said.

I looked around. I didn't have much stored in the garage except for old toys I had as a kid, and I wasn't about to give up my childhood stuffed animal collection for her ass.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed three white boxes that I had previously overlooked.

Immediately, I dug out my copy of "Dianetics."

"Here, Mary. Your ass can read about engrams." She reached out and grabbed the page.

Wipe.

And every time she needed a new page, bam. There I was with another bit of Dianetics for her.

Somewhere around the corner, wherever she abandoned the bucket when it was all over with (I don't really know what happened. I didn't really ask. I don't really want to know.) there is a bucket full of diarrhea and pages about psychosomatic illness, jumping off of milk crates to attempt abortion, prenatal engrams, and directions on how to perform a Dianetics auditing session. Essentially, where they belong.


The end!

AWESOME! :) roflma:roflmao:
 

SPsince83

Gold Meritorious Patron
I don't know why it never occurred to me to post this story here, as it is an absolutely amazing one I think all Exes would enjoy.

So, I share a house with two other people, let's call them Mary & Sara. Mary and I have been great friends for a very long time, and we all get along pretty well together. I am an Ex-Scientologist. Mary did have some contact with the Co$ through myself but decided it wasn't for her right off the bat, and Sara has never had any experience with them.

If you were to look at our house from the street, you would see that the garage is underneath the house and theres a downward-sloping driveway into the garage. Essentially, the garage is in the basement. On the door in the basement to the garage, the door itself has a regular deadbolt as well as a heavy-duty door guard swing bar latch thingymabob.

Our garage is full of stuff that random people have left there because it's been sort of a temporary housing situation for a lot of people over the last ten years. We mostly just use it to store our extra stuff, and to smoke in when it's raining.

One night, Mary and I went down into the garage to smoke a cigarette because it was raining really hard outside. When we both got into the garage, we closed the door to the house to keep the smoke out, and opened the garage door to let the smoke out that way.

Before we were even done smoking, Mary looks at me and says, "Man. I gotta take a shit."

And I'm like, "Well, then. Go do it."

And when she attempts to open the door back into the house.... Uh-oh.

The latch had somehow slipped back over itself. We were locked out of every other room in the house except for the garage.

Hah, calling our other roommate to come save us was out of the picture as she had just flown down to Texas to visit family. Our landlord was also out of town for the holidays. (This happened back in December. It was a Christmas affair!) We had no friends who lived in the area. And my partner, who is usually up that late and willing to drive, was stuck at home, chugging down Nyquil trying to fight off a terrible cold.

So, I tried in vain for about ten minutes to break down the door into the house. I tried slamming my entire body weight against the door numerous times, and the latch would just NOT budge. This whole time, Mary's explosive gastrointestinal issues were becoming more and more uncomfortable for her, and she started doing this anxious dance. She just could NOT sit still.

The quicker she danced, the more I knew time was running out for her to make it to a proper place to do her duty.

Mary groaned as she pressed the button to close the garage door so no one could see into the garage.

"Hand me that bucket!" She exclaimed. I looked over to my right and saw this old bucket full of weird old tools. I dumped it out on the ground and handed it over to her.

In less time than it would take to count to three, Mary had dropped trou' and was releasing her troubled bowels into the bucket.

I plugged my nose, and I gagged, and yes, it is really gross and weird. I was not having a good time. Neither was Mary.

She looked at me with a panicked but sad look on her face.

"I need something to wipe with," she said.

I looked around. I didn't have much stored in the garage except for old toys I had as a kid, and I wasn't about to give up my childhood stuffed animal collection for her ass.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed three white boxes that I had previously overlooked.

Immediately, I dug out my copy of "Dianetics."

"Here, Mary. Your ass can read about engrams." She reached out and grabbed the page.

Wipe.

And every time she needed a new page, bam. There I was with another bit of Dianetics for her.

Somewhere around the corner, wherever she abandoned the bucket when it was all over with (I don't really know what happened. I didn't really ask. I don't really want to know.) there is a bucket full of diarrhea and pages about psychosomatic illness, jumping off of milk crates to attempt abortion, prenatal engrams, and directions on how to perform a Dianetics auditing session. Essentially, where they belong.

Whenever we go down to the garage these days, I still chuckle every time I see that ripped apart copy of Dianetics.

Also, by some sort of miracle (probably all those OT powers I've attained from auditing! Cough) one of the creepy old tools that was in the bucket in the first place worked just fine in busting the latch off. We went back into the house and had a pretty good laugh.

The end!

Pretty shitty deal. Too fuckin funny
 

ThetanExterior

Gold Meritorious Patron
That story reminds me of an ex-scientologist I know who received his SP Declare Goldenrod through the post.

He sent it back covered in various substances, including, but not limited to, those mentioned in this thread.:ohmy:
 
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