Back when I was in Costa Rica, living with a poor family, I once had to take a huuuge shit. They had one bathroom with a ghetto toilet and a whole in the wall (through which the dogs constantly watched you taking your ice-cold shower or taking a dump). So anyways, I liberated my bowels from this monster, wiped up, and when I turned around to flush, I gasped.
This was a master turd. In no way could it's diameter fit through the tiny hole supposed to fit it. The three bastard dogs were watching me intently through the hole, which was an additional stress factor. Since there was nothing much I can do, I took my chances and flushed. Of course, it clogged. I was panicked; since there was only one toilet and no plunger (this was a very poor family) they would know I had taken that master shit, and disown me. It would be pretty damn humiliating, at the least. So I found this tiny brush type instrument and tried a desperate plan. I tried shoving the thing down the hole by destroying it and pushing it down all the while flushing. After about half an hour, it worked. The toilet was somehow unclogged, but the water was dark brown even after 10 or 15 flushes.
All that was left was decide what to do with the shit-stained pitiful brush. The dogs were still staring at me intently, so as revenge I cleaned the disgusting apparel on the fur of the most violent sonofabitch that tried to kill me on my first day. The brush was now spic and span.
I exited the bathroom with dignity, even though the looks on my family's face were slightly puzzled as to why I was in the bathroom for an hour and flushed about 30 times. Whatever, they didn't ask any questions.
I had a lasting memory of the incident, however, seen as the dog stank like defecation and the toilet's water remained dark brown for the remaining two weeks of the exchange. Oh well.