Pooey

by Inga

I am sitting here, checking my e-mail on mother's day, when like a bright flash of light, I was hit by a memory...

There was a lady in our home town, who appeared quite nice. She always planted nice flowers and sweetly smiled to everyone she saw. She lived alone in a big house. Every one seemed to like her and she just lived her live in her quiet sweet way. She didn't have any children, nor close friends. There was nobody part of her life who was close enough to know that she may be a little tipped in the head.

Well, there was a rash of disappearing teenagers. At first, people thought that the teens were rebellious and skipped the quiet country town in search of a faster paced life. I wasn't until the "good kids" started disappearing, that the local authorities started to get suspicious.

The town was in turmoil, as about 14 teens were missing. There were speculations of murder, of course. There was a huge group that put together the "have you seen me?" flyers, and helped organize all of the searches. The nice single shy, friendless and familyless lady was at the head of almost all of the groups. One would see her crying face on the 6 o'clock national news, begging others to join the search to find "our children".

A couple of the people noticed some peculiarities about this woman - that she washed her hands and face almost every half hour. She took on her job at finding these kids with a fervor that usually the parents themselves only took on. She referred to them as her kids so many times, that some of the people in the town forgot that she actually didn't have any children.

A detective was working with the group, though no one knew that he was a detective. He got very suspicious of the nice lady, and decided to check her out first. What could have been a long search ended quickly, when the detective discovered within a day that the nice lady was the guilty person. The town was in disbelief and shock when the news came out and she was arrested. The teens were all found, but some took years before they recuperated. I already mentioned that the woman had a large house, and I forgot to mention that she also had a large piece of wooded property. Because of the natural topography, portions of her site were secluded from the rest of the town.

All of the teens went through counseling, and their stories were known only to a select few of the town's citizens. I happen to be part of that select few, because when it happened, my family was consulted by the counselors. I happened to be too young at the time to be consulted, but as a family rule, no one in the family is too young to offer advice. As a result, there are no secrets, and everything is openly discussed. Since it is years past, I feel that I can relate to you the stories of the teens. See, my family was consulted because we are experts in poo. poo poo. excretement. yes, like I have written in earlier writings, my family knows its poo.

I can't write all the 14 accounts of the teens now, for it would take hours, but I will write one at a time. Call them short stories. You can read next week about the second teen, and the next week about the third teen, etc.

First I will give you some information about where the teens were. I won't go into detail about how the detective came to suspect the nice lady, or how he managed to discover the whereabouts of the teens and the guilt of the lady. The teens were found on a secluded part of the nice lady's property . Each teen was locked into his or her own temporary plastic construction toilet compartment. You know, the ones you see on construction sites or at large outdoor festivals or concerts? Well, unfortunately, this was no fun event for the teens.

Here is the first teen's, Sara's, account of what happened to her:

Sara was unable to remember how she was lured into the company of the nice lady. (some other teens remembered that). All she remembers is waking up in a porta-potty. It stunk as one would expect it to. She remembered that she should for some reason be terrified, though couldn't remember why. There were sounds of nature outside the potty. Birds chirped happily and she heard rustling of the ground outside as they pecked at seeds or bugs or something. She tried to open the door and no matter what she did, couldn't make it budge. She would bash her shoulder into it, to no avail. She screamed for help until she was almost hoarse. It was hot and stinky in the potty, and Sara was parched. She decided to scream one last time, and when she did, she heard a female voice croon to her, "Ohhh there there nice little baby, don't scream and cry." Sara started demanding to be let out and screamed and did cry. The lady's voice softly and cheerfully said that she was being a bad girl and her mommy had to discipline her until she behaves. The kook was acting like Sara's mommy. She unscrewed the top vent and lowered a baby bottle full of formula and some Zwiebach to Sara. She told Sara to be a good baby and eat all of her dinner and mama would sing her a song. Sara drank all of the bottle in thirst, and savored the Zwiebach. The nice lady yanked the rope back up from the vent and yelled that because of Sara, she now had to clean the bottle out and sterilize it. All she does day in and day out is work for Sara. She should be a good little baby.

Of course Sara was freaking out and realized that the nice lady was acting as if someone put her brain in a blender, then shoved it back into her head again.

The nice lady sang a lullaby and left Sara alone for the night. Over the days, Sara decided to try to get the lady to open the door by using psychology. She tried everything, but the nice lady wouldn't hear of opening the door. Sometimes Sara would hear the lady stroking the door as if trying to soothe it.

After days, Sara heard muffled screams from other people. She deduced that she wasn't the only one captive. It made her feel good that she wasn't the only one in this. She decided to get out, as she heard the lady do horrendous things to the other people. Sara didn't have it as bad as some of the prisoners, some of whom she recognized as her friends.

In trying to escape, she rocked the porta-potty back and forth to try to tip it. She thought there may be a hole to crawl out of and she could get some help. Maybe if the potty tips, the door will break open. She was wrong.

Sara tipped the potty, and it tipped the wrong way. It landed on the door, and Sara was truly stuck. Not only was she stuck for good, but as the potty landed, all of the waste that was in it gushed all over her. She huddled in the stench for days, curled up in human waste. There was the occasional poo-covered tampon, the sticky urine and poo mixture. Sara shivered for 8 days straight in the fetid goop until she and the others were found. She only got one bottle a day when she tipped the potty over. The lady was mad at Sara. After the lady would finish with the other teens, she would return to Sara's potty and jeer and taunt her.
"Sara, Sara, dirty haira.
fell in poop, did it scare ya?
Sara baby, poo poo baby, poo poo head
you'll soon be dead.
Poo Poo smelly, you stink.
Some baby you turned out to be."
Sara couldn't remember a lot of the time she spent in the potty. The unfortunate imprisonment has changed her for life. To this very day she still sucks her thumb when trying to think of something. She is otherwise doing well, a corporate marketing analyst in some big city.

This story was by far the tamest of them all. I want to ease you into the horrors of the teens. I will find some time soon to write you about teen #2.

Until then, take care. Oh, I never found out what my family suggested Sara to do to get over the trauma. I will look into it and perhaps follow these accounts up with a treatment letter from my family.


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