The procedure for Day Two was identical to Day One, so it was slightly less harrowing. I guess the only difference was the actual stool itself. You know, you really feel like you get to know yourself when you spork your shit for a couple of days in a row. Sure, on a daily basis, I glance into the toilet bowl after a dump to see what’s coming out of me, but that’s nothing like sitting there on the bathroom floor, face-to-face with your leavings, using your little spork to carefully select the choicest cuts from your ass-burgers. I think everyone should have the opportunity to perform a Random Stool Collection. The world would be a better place… and the landfills would be overflowing with shit tubs.
Now, Day Three… THAT’S when things got really interesting. It started out like Day One and Day Two: fill the Green-top SAF tube with sporked shit-balls. But then came the all-new “Step Eight”!
Step 8: On Day Three, use the wooden stick provided and one stool specimen, fill all three tubes first, and then fill the empty white-top cup. Open the empty white-top cup. Using the flat wooden stick provided, pick up several portions of stool from contrasting areas in the collection tub. Add sufficient stool sample to reach the 40-ml line. Using the wooden stick, mix stool in white-top container. Recap the container and check to ensure it is securely fastened. DO NOT OVERFILL.
First, I’ll ignore the run-on sentence. Second, after filling a single tube two days running, packing up the three tubes was no big deal. The “white-top cup,” however, was another matter entirely. All the “collection tube” rules went right out the fucking window. Now, I was supposed to take a glorified popsicle stick, swirl it into my final turd like it was some kind of hazelnut gelato, and then wipe/stuff whatever I could pick up into a clear plastic cup. It’s not as simple as it sounds, mind you. It’s one thing to blindly stab a spork into your shit but it’s quite another to jam a stick into it over and over and then attempt to spread whatever you manage to balance on the stick into this fucking plastic shot glass. And it was some kind of magic bottomless shot glass, too, because no matter how much I spread in there, I could never reach the 40 milliliter fill line. I felt like I was working at a really disgusting soft-serve ice cream store. I even looked in the box to see if there was one of those paper busboy hats that I was supposed to wear.
At least I remembered to put the glove on, this time.
And then, just like that, it was over. My stool had been randomly collected.