*Watch this video before reading*  http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1812621

The Beginning:  Huh, that's weird; we haven't stopped at a floor.  I wonder what has happened.  It is probably just a common malfunction.  It'll start up any minute, and I can get back to doing my secretary.  I mean that is why I am at the office at 11 pm.  Perfect plan ever, wife is never gonna know.  As long as I've got time to kill, I am going to count how many condoms I have left for like 10 minutes.  If anyone were to watch the elevator camera video sped up to 10x normal speed, it'll look like I'm doing some sort of magic trick to kill time. 

Hour 1: Yup, the brick wall is still there.  Wait, maybe not.  Yea, no it's definitely still there.  I'll just chill, they're probably calling the fire department right now. 

Hours 22:  Hahahahaha kind of going crazy.  Been alone for about a day.  The secretary probably isn't waiting anymore.  So lame.  If I find out a repairman checked every elevator but this one, I am going to be sooo angry.  God, I've got to go poop so bad.  I've been trying to hold it in by lying down in various positions, fetal was best, but I can't anymore.

Hour: 23:  Maybe I can poop on the roof of this thing.  Oh god, they don't open.  Who the f seals this shit?  Why would you seal an elevator hatch?  What if someone were to get stuck for more than 40 hours in an elevator and had to go poop?  I mean, I'll probably only be in here a few more minutes, but what if?  I've counted and I think I have enough Kleenex to wipe. 

Hour 24: I pooped my pants.  God it smells awful in here.  Not going to lie, it felt really good at first, but now I kind of wish I had held it longer.  Oh well, hindsights 20/20. 

Hour 31:  I am suing the shit out of this place.  The settlement is going to be so huge; they won't be able to reveal how much it is.  I'll be able to retire from making textbooks for this god-forsaken company.  I wish I had some of their paper to wipe myself.  I'll be wiping with 100 dollar bills when I get out of here.  I think I hear people talking in here.

Hour 36: I pooped my pants again.  Doesn't really make sense cause I haven't eaten anything.  At least they won't be able to tell 10 years from now if this video goes viral.  Haha turns out there were people in here with me the whole time.  One is named Jo Ann, she's a struggling actress from L.A. visiting her Aunt.  The other is John, he likes wake boarding.  They both seem really nice; maybe we can hang out after we get through this.

Hour 38:  F! I killed Joann and John.  I am going to prison forever.  I can't believe this.  One minute we were having a nice conversation, and the next they were saying that they couldn't believe I pooed my pants.  I was so embarrassed that I murdered them.  There's blood everywhere.  My life is over.  I was going to win a huge settlement, but instead I am going to prison.  Now I have no one to talk to either.  This is the worst day ever. 

Hour 40:  Alright just act natural, they are never going to know it was me.  I'll just bolt out of here when the elevator opens and head straight for the bathroom. I'll clean the blood off and wipe my butt.  Oh, it's moving.  Ok here goes nothing. 

Hour 41:  *Elevator Operator Enters* Oh god, it smells like shit in here.

Good Heavens!  It appears I have time journeyed to the 22nd century.  I shall explore further. 

As I saunter down the streets, I notice that Negroes are running rampant.  Women appear able to partake in the same activities as men.  HA! Preposterous!  One was even so bold as to become an agent of the law.  Let us see her overcome a red coat!  She would most certainly be raped... repeatedly.

 My throat has become parched from all this nonsensery and so I enter a place of business to quench my thirst.  I enter what appears to be a harlot household filled with minorities.  A giant Negro (Tom?)* stands watch over the door.  Although my natural inclination is to enter a segregated dwelling*, it does not appear as though this is an option.  God save me. 

I have just recovered from my fourth seizure.  My senses have been overloaded from the loud noises, flashing lights (which appears to be very popular to say/sing) and sexual maneuvers that I have encountered.  It is difficult to tell whether men and women are copulating or gyrating to the music.  Methinks the answer is both from the lyrics of the new-fangled hit, "Fornicate in this Club". 

The women here are dancing in very revealing knickers and brassieres. I have not seen dance gyrations such as these since I walked in upon Darqueesha preparing my meal.   I try to avert my eyes but they are everywhere.  My pantaloons have become very tense from watching the dances of these seductresses.  I am quite embarrassed by my forward actions.  I must find a private place to tuck my flesh musket into my undergarments.  If only Jefferson were here, he would go mad in a place with so many women of color. 

Some of the slaves have taken it upon themselves to perform varying shenanigans in a circle of people.  They are pleasing to the eye, but my heart tells me they are of the devil.  I stay away.

A large Negress (Negro princess) has taken me captive.  I do not know where she is taking me...   It appears we have entered an outhouse of sorts and she has begun, if I may be so bold as to reference a song from the music chamber, to "unbutton my pantaloons just a lil' bit."   I am afraid of contracting the Elephant's Scorn from her. 

Call me Ishmael!*  I write this from atop the beast.  I liken her to a beached whale that I continually harpoon despite the fact that I have defeated her.  If Revere were to have me choose, this one is definitely by sea.  But I must focus for... The British are Coming! 

Note: *Indicates anachronistic reference