The Mystery of Turd in the Punchbowl

Henry hated these gatherings and hated giving bad news. Mr Portland had parties every other week, and he always invited his American friends. It was as though London had become some private American village. Henry had never known that so many foreigners lived in this part of the city before he worked for Mr. Portland, and he felt strangely lonely being the only British person in the room. 

        All the regulars were there. He could see Lady Jessica, a young women from a noble background, barely in her twenties, her long fair hair glittered under the lights of the chandelier, and she was wearing a dress of brilliant midnight blue. Henry had an eye for the ladies, and this one was beautiful. Lady Jessica was talking to the Earl of new Snowdonia, who was an old man in his early seventies. He seemed to be quite keen on the conversation whereas Lady Jessica looked rather bored.

        Henry looked around the room. All these well-dressed people coming to the famous Sir Portland's parties: it was always the same crowd. There was Count Kraken and Lady Missy, Jonathan Roberts and his wife Petunia, and many others.   

Mr. Portland himself suddenly appeared at Henry’s side. He was a rather impressive sight. James Portland was dressed in an Armani suit, looking rather young for his 48 years. His dyed hair looking full and shiny on top of his tall body. Most women tended to think that he was a catch. His wife had died of pneumonia three years before.

        “What are you standing around here for, Henry? Jessica asked for a glass of punch minutes ago already!” He drawled in his southern American accent. 

        “I know sir,” Henry sighed, cut glass. “It's just that we have a little problem.”

        Portland raised an eyebrow. Henry knew that James hated problems.

        “Do tell.”

        “Well sir,” Henry said. “There seems to be a turd in the punchbowl.” James looked at him, confused.

        “You have already told me that there's a problem. Now what is it?” he hissed.

        “I told you sir! There is a turd, in the punchbowl. To be quite clear sir... Someone has shat in the punch.”  

        “I'm not sure that I understand, Henry.”

        “Follow me sir.”

        Henry sighed and walked through to the dining room, with James at his heels.         The room was empty, as everyone was enjoying their drinks in the living room. In the middle of the room, there was a table laden with drinks, and in the center of the table, was a bowl full of punch. The two men approached the bowl. Henry pointed to it. James leaned forwards and recoiled almost instantly. In the middle of the bowl, floating on top of the yellow liquid, sat a big fat turd. The mix of the liquid and human excrement reminded James of a toilet bowl in which sat a great deal of piss and a big fat turd. The thing itself was impressive: it was four inches long and at least two inches in diameter. It seemed rather compact; it was dark brown, almost black in colour. If it hadn't been lying in his delicious punch, James would have been quite enthralled by the boldness of it. Instead, he was outraged.  

        “What the hell is this?” he hissed violently.

        “A turd sir,” Henry replied calmly. James turned to face him, his nostrils flaring.

        “I can see that thank you very much Henry! Where did it come from?”

        “I daresay it came from someone's bottom, sir.”

        “Is this amusing to you Henry?”

        “Quite amusing, yes sir.” James glared at Henry for a few seconds.

        “Well?” James said.

        “Well what sir?” Henry replied.

        “Aren't you going to clean it up?”

        “Oh, no, I don't think so sir,” Henry smiled.

        “And why not?”

        “I would have thought that the job would be for the person who left it there, sir.”

        James looked at him thoughtfully.

        “Yes indeed, but who did leave it there?” he asked.

        “That seems to be a mystery sir. But -” Henry hesitated for a second.

        “Yes?” James prompted.

        “Well, I have heard.. rumours, sir.” 

        “What sort of rumours Henry?”

        Henry looked around the room, and even though it was empty, he lowered his voice.

        “Rumours about some of the guests, sir.”

        James lowered his voice also.

        “Who?” he whispered.

        “Well,” Henry continued, glancing around the room again. “I did hear a snippet about Lady Jessica.”

        James looked at him with interest.

        “Really?” he cooed, his eyes bright.

        “Well,” Henry went on. “Apparently, Jessica likes to be a bit kinky in the bedroom. I heard that she enjoys a bit of scatophilia.”

        “WHAT?” James shouted. The room next door fell silent for a few seconds. “What?” he said again in a whisper as the noise returned.

        “Yes, apparently she quite likes for her partner to drop a deuce on her bosom during the dirty deed.”

        “Where on earth did you hear that, Henry?”

        “People don't take much notice of the butler, sir. One hears things.”

        James scratched his chin.

        “So you think Jessica dumped one in the punchbowl?”  

        “It certainly seems she may be inclined. I mean, if she enjoys it in the bedroom, it might be some kind of challenge for her.”

        “Yes, well I can't just ask -”

        Just then, Lady Jessica opened the door to the dining room. Both Henry and James froze. Henry was the first to recover and stepped in front of the punchbowl, to block it from view.

        “I've been waiting for ages Jimmy! Where's my punch, darling?”

        James just stared at her, his mouth open in horror. Henry stepped in.

        “I'm afraid the punch has gone off madam, it isn't fit to be served,” he said.         James quickly nodded, recovering.

        “Yes,” he said. “Gone off. Completely off, you mustn’t drink it.” 

        “Nonsense,” said Jessica. “I had a glass barely an hour ago, it was fine.”         James quickly walked towards her, and slightly hesitantly, grabbed her arm to turn her back towards the main room.

        “No, I assure you my dear, it has gone bad.” He ushered her through the door and turned back towards Henry. “Find out who did it!” He hissed before following Jessica out of the room.

        Henry, left alone with his thoughts and the turd in the punchbowl, wondered how on earth he was supposed to find out who did it. Just because Jessica had a fetish for human feces didn't mean that she would do such a thing, did it? She seemed like such a nice young lady. Perhaps the rumours weren't true. He had heard it from the bloke who mopped the floor, who swore that he had slept with her. Henry hadn't believed it, but in light of recent events... No, he had to examine the suspects. Ask questions. Find answers. But where to start? He supposed he might as well start with Jessica. It was good reason to talk to her.

        He left the dining room and entered the main living area, where all the guests were standing around talking, all of them in various states of drunkenness. He spotted Jessica at once. She was standing in a corner talking in a low voice to Sir Stewart Harmly, a thirty something self-made millionaire. They seemed to be quite keen on each other. Henry wondered if Stewart knew of Jessica's penchant for kinky sex. He approached the couple.

        “I'm sorry to bother you both, but I was wondering if I could have a quick word with you, madam?”

        Stewart gave him an annoyed stare. Henry noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and that he was having trouble staying upright.

        “I'm 'fraid you are boverin us, busta.” Stewart slurred.

        “I won't be long,” Henry insisted.

        “Fuck off!” Stewart bellowed. People glanced around. Henry smiled nervously.

        “I just want to talk about a delicate matter with miss -”

        “I told you to fuck off you British git!” He lifted his arm but thankfully, Jessica stepped in.

        “Don't worry Stewie, I won't be long.” She smiled flirtatiously at him and lightly stroked his cheek before walking away. Henry winked at Stewart and followed her. She led them to an office off the main room. He closed the door and turned to look at her. But before he could say a word, she spoke.

        “Right, I don't normally do it with butlers, but you're quite cute so okay. But we'll have to make it quick.” She started to pull off her dress. Henry got a lovely glimpse of her breasts before, to his horror, he heard himself say:

        “No, no, I'm afraid you've got the wrong end of the stick, madam. I wanted to ask you about the punch.” She stopped undressing herself and looked bewildered.

        “The punch? I'm undressing in front of you and you want to talk about the punch? Are you mad?”

        “I'm afraid I might be. It's just that there has been an… incident.” He swallowed, wondering what the hell he was doing. Here, in front of him, was a beautiful girl willing to have sex with him, and he was going to talk about shit. Literally.

        “An incident?” She asked, slightly weary. She started to pull her dress back on. “What kind of incident?” Henry swallowed. With every layer of clothing that went back on, he could see his chances of sex slipping away. He tried desperately,

        “Maybe we should talk about it after the sex,” he said hoping.

        “No,” she answered coldly. “Too late, I'm not in the mood anymore.” Henry felt like weeping. “What's going on?” she added. Henry swallowed.

        “Well,” he began. “There is a problem with the punch and I was wondering if you would have any idea of what it might be?” Henry asked cautiously. Jessica looked at him, slightly exasperated.

        “You told me it had gone off,” she said flatly.

        “Yes, but do you know why?”

        “How the hell should I know? I don't know the first thing about punch. Except that it has alcohol in it.”

        “Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions about -” Henry hesitated at this point.

        “About what?”

        “About your... Erm... Sexual habits.”

        Jessica looked at him curiously.

        “Are you after sex again, Henry? I told you the moment has passed. What do you want to know?”

        “I heard,” Henry replied, clearing his throat. “I heard that you quite like to have your body covered in – That you like to have your partner do a -” Jessica smiled slyly.

        “Do a what, Henry?” She asked, her face bright. 

        “That you like having your partner poo on you.” Henry said very quickly. Jessica laughed heartily.

        “Well, Henry, I misjudged you.” To Henry amazement, Jessica started to undress again. “I never thought you were the kinky type.” She was now half-naked, and her beautiful, firm breasts were winking at him. “It would be a pleasure to have your shit on me, Henry.” As she continued to undress, Henry was torn between sexual desire and disgust. Then she grabbed his trousers and all thoughts went out of his head.

        Thirty minutes later found Henry back in the hall, relieved and horribly traumatized. He stank of shit and needed a shower. The last half hour would be engraved in his memory forever. It had been amazing sex. The kinky part was oddly satisfying although he nearly threw up several times. The only problem was that he still had no idea if Jessica was the culprit. She had gone back to flirting with Stewart. Obviously, Henry wasn't enough to satisfy her. Although, how she was supposed to pull with that stink on her, Henry didn't know. He had pushed out a nice big one on her and smeared it over her with his hands. She had licked it and used it as lubricant to go down on him. The thought of it nearly made him throw up.

        Anyway, he had to find the culprit. The way Jessica had behaved really made him think it had been her. After all, not that many people were that kinky, were they? How many people would find pleasure in shitting on someone? But was that the same as shitting in a punch bowl?

        Henry saw James approaching him. 

       “Well?” he demanded when he was near enough. “Did you catch them? Was it Jessica? I saw you disappear with her. God man!” James held up his hand to his nose. “You stink of shit! What on earth have you done?”

        “I had sex with Jessica, sir. And I can confirm her sexual habits.” Henry said matter-of-factually. James opened his eyes wide, and then laughed.

        “Oh my god!” He had tears in his eyes. “You shat on her? That's hilarious!” he hooted. After he had calmed down, he said, “So it's her then? She did it in the punch?”

        “Well sir, I don't -” But James had already walked off towards Jessica. Henry followed quickly, turning heads as he passed because of the stink he was emitting.

        “Jessica!” James yelled. Everyone in the room fell silent. Jessica looked at James. Stewart had been trying to kiss her but kept missing her mouth. At James' yell, he slumped against the wall. 

        “Yes James?” she said pleasantly.

        “Jessica, could you kindly tell me why you did a shit in the punchbowl?” The silence in the room deepened. Only Stewart's snores could be heard.

        “What?” Jessica asked angrily.

        “Your shit is in my punchbowl!” James said forcibly. “Please explain.”

        “I did not shit in your punch!” Jessica yelled back.

        “Oh, don't try and deny it Jessica,” James was slightly hysterical by now. “Henry told me about how you like people to shit on you. You did it with him just now! Look at you, you both stink of shit!” People gasped around the room. Jessica glared at Henry, who stared at his feet.

        “Thanks a lot, Henry!” she spat. “But you see James, even though my sex life doesn't concern you, you did put your finger on a valid point.”

        “And what's that?” James asked smugly.

        “I like people to shit on me! I don't like shitting on people. Why on earth would I do that? It's disgusting! I don't want to eat or drink my own shit! That would be wrong!”

        Noise broke out at these words.

        “But other people's shit doesn't bother you?” James retorted.

        “No!” Jessica cried. “Other people's shit tastes sweet and smells like freshly grounded coffee. Mine tastes disgusting! Nobody knew about the taste of my shit until now, James! Thanks, now everyone knows how weird I am, I have weird shit that tastes disgusting. Why couldn't I have normal shit that tastes delicious like everyone else? I'm a FREAK!”

        She fell to the floor and started bawling. Everybody stared, stunned at this outburst.

        “I thinks she needs therapy,” one guest whispered to another, loud enough for everyone to hear.

        “Jessica,” James said kindly. “Come with me darling, we'll sort this out.” He led her away, and as they walked past Henry, James winked and whispered, “And I need a shit!”

        Later, the party picked up again and the main discussion was Jessica and her shit. Henry was allowed a bit of fame too and was asked many questions. He was delighted to be the centre of attention for once and gossiped happily with a glass of sherry. Jessica and James did not reappear all night. Everybody had forgotten about Stewart, who slept against the wall.

        The next day, Henry woke with a headache. He had perhaps indulged in one too many glasses of sherry. Once he had showered, (he wasn't sure the smell of shit was ever going to leave him) he went downstairs to find Jessica and James having coffee.

        “The cleaning lady isn't happy,” James said without preamble. “She isn't going to clean up the mess in the punch.”

        “Did you find out who did it?” Henry yawned, helping himself to toast.

        “No”, James said. “I don't care anymore. What a fantastic night though eh?”

        “It was fun,” Henry replied glancing at Jessica and wondering if James had enjoyed the same pleasures he had. The way Jessica looked a James confirmed his suspicions.

        “Well I had a great time, thanks to both you boys. We should do it again sometime, all of us together. We could have a great meal!” Henry and James looked at each other, both safe in the knowledge that that would never happen. “I've got to go boys,” she added, getting up. “Thanks for your shits, they were delicious, and I'm sorry about mine. I'm going to see a doctor to see if he can do anything about it! Bye boys.” She kissed them both on the lips and walked out.

        “Nutcase,” James said once she had left.

        “Completely bonkers,” Henry agreed. “It's a shame we never did find out who did poo in the punch though,” he added.

        “Oh that was me,” said a rough voice from the doorway. Henry and James looked around. Stewart Harmly was standing there, looking quite the worse for wear.

        “What?” Both Henry and James cried.

        “Yes, sorry old boy,” Stewart replied. “I was very drunk last night and couldn't find the bathroom. I thought it would be funny to take a dump in the punch. I do apologize. I'll clean it up as soon as I've had some coffee. My head is killing me. Did I miss much?”

        James laughed, grabbed his coffee and took a sip. “Pull up a chair Stewie, this is going to take a while.”

                                                      THE END