Valentine's Day Turd. Updated Version

I'm not sure where the original story is, but here is the "new" version of the infamous Valentine's Day Turd. Hope memory serves me right.

Picture it. February 14, 1998. Four lonely girls. One Red House.

"I hate Valentine's Day. I'm banning it this year."
"Me too. I'm sick of people oogling each other, getting flowers, cards and candy and not have my own boy to schmooze."
"Yeah. I wish I was getting shit for Valentine's Day!"
"Let's throw a Wine and Cheese party??!"
"Yeah. With paper hearts and we'll all wear black."
"Awesome!"

So the four ladies in waiting start preparing the infamous Red House for one of our huge parties. Last huge party was homecoming and well, a sliced finger, cops and landlord arriving: it got a liiiitlllle out of hand. We thought we'd keep it low only inviting singles and rules were that you must bring wine, you must wear black. Easy enough.
With three of us being elementary education majors, construction paper was always on hand. We began cutting out our hearts (no pun intended) of pink and red and hanging them from the ceiling. 10 turned to 20, 30 turned to 80 and by the end of it there must have been at least 300 in our modest, crooked apartment on Waugh Avenue. All hanging from the finest of OralB dental floss, the hearts transformed the dismal dump to a romantic heaven. Hearts in every room and swaying as the sliding glass door was opening and shutting all so often.
The word was out and by 7:00 PM the ladies had begun their night. All dolled up with our uniforms of black shirts, jeans and black boots, our smokey eye-shadowed eyes were glistening with a few glasses of wine already slung down. No one was going to ruin our night. Man or not, we were going to rock it.
The part was a hit. People were everywhere. People we knew, people we didn't. The quaint get together had blossomed to an awesome low-key blowout. No cops, no landlord, no drama. Excellent party! We all headed to bed at different times...not even sure when. The Black Valentine's Day party was over.

Until the next day.

By the time we all were up, greasy-breakfasted, napped and up again the usual trail of people started arriving. The Red House was a haven for WC. The gathering ground for post-party gossip, break-up tragedy and everyday drama. If you wanted to know something, get to the Red House. If the four of us didn't know, someone soon to arrive would. As the misfits started to pour in few comments came with them.

"damn. Look at the ashtrays on the porch."
"There are still wine bottles in the tub."
"Did you know there's a pair of shitty boxers next to your dumpster?"

Whah, whah, whah, what?????

"Yeah. I walked down from Hillside through Overflow and there's a pair of boxers laying next to your dumpster and I think someone wiped there ass with them."
(Bouts of laughter)

So we all jump up and go out the back door to inspect the evidence. Where the hell would those come from? Who do they belong to? Who went home without underwear? We all headed back into the house. Sitting on the couches trying to decipher the night the questions arose.

"I just don't get it. Why would someone leave their boxers back there?"
"Um, hello. Why didn't they just use our bathroom?"
"Why don't we go look outside again?"

So we all trudge outside again. This time noticing "other evidence." Enter...toilet paper.

"Holy shit! Look! There's toilet paper over there!"

A few pieces (looked like a buncher not a roller had left them) were in a line. Kinda like when Bobby and Cindy got lost in the Grand Canyon and left the popcorn train with the little Indian boy?? So we followed the trail. A metal glass. Looks a lot like the ones we have in our kitchen. It is one of the ones we have in our kitchen! And, it's still half full of wine! It's next to the couch. (Yes. We had a couch in the back yard. Wasn't ours. It belonged to the guys who used to live in our house and our landlord had yet to get rid of it. We were in college, okay?)

Picture the line...shitty boxers, bunched up toilet paper, metal glass half full of wine...and wait. What the...?? Oh. My. God. There's a turd on the couch. A big huge log. "It's lo-og, it's lo-og."
Who the...? What the...? Why...?

"Who the hell would A: Pinch a loaf on a couch, and B: Clearly leave without their boxers?"

After questioning most of the AlphaSig boys next door and clearly knowing it wasn't them, we started to wonder. This went on most of the night while watching SouthPark and random movies. Every 15 minutes or so a reference to the clues would come up and still a mystery. After many ramblings it all started to come together.

"Wait a minute. Nicki and I were in the bathroom last night and some asshole kept knocking on the door. I told him wait a minute! He was totally being a jerk. I yelled back at him and then said the hell with it. When we came out, no one was there."
"Wait. I remember the back door being open and I thought it was strange, but just assumed someone went outside to smoke a cigarette."
"Wait. Who would go out the back door to smoke when everyone always goes out the front."
"Terri had some friends here from highschool. Maybe they did. They had never been here before."
"That's who was yelling at the door. I heard someone yelling to get in the bathroom and I peeked in and didn't know who the hell it was. When I looked back in, he was gone."
"Wait. I wondered who opened the backdoor and left it open."

Ohhhhhh. I bet...
I bet...
I bet...

Moral of the story...

Be careful what you wish for. You might just get shit for Valentine's Day.