I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether sure
that course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous
evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my
patented 'You're definitely going to **** yourself chili..'
Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which
comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat it, the next
day both of your a$$ cheeks WILL fall off.
Here's the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two
cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened.
No "Watson's Movement 2'.
Despite habanera peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract,
I appeared to be unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to
by my next door neighbors as thunder and lightning.
Knowing that a time of reckoning had to come, yet not sure of just when,
I bravely set off for the market; a local Wal-Mart grocery store that I
often haunt in search of tasty tidbits.
Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I selected a cart
and began pushing it about dropping items in
for purchase. It wasn't until I was at the opposite end of the store from the restrooms that the
pain hit me. Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking
about. I'm referring to that 'Uh oh, gotta go' pain that always seems to
hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different !
The habaneras in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt.
In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small
intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I
could take one step in the direction of the restrooms which would bring
sweet relief, it happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.
There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped
in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was
afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my
body, and I began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as an elderly
woman turned into it.
I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction
would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate, as she
walked into it unsuspecting. Have you ever been torn
in two different directions emotionally? Here's what I mean, and I'm sure
some of you at least will be able to relate.
I could've warned that poor woman but didn't. I simply watched as she
walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so
terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running,
was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though
trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible,
but then made me laugh. Mistake.
Here's the thing. When you laugh, it's hard to keep things 'clamped
down', if you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst
forth from my nether region.. Some were so loud and echoing that I was
later told a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was
robbing the store and firing off a shotgun.
Suddenly things were no longer funny. IT was coming, and I raced off
through the store towards the restrooms, laying down a cloud the whole
way, praying that I'd make it before the grand mal assplosion took
place.
Luck was on my side.
Just in the nick of time I got to the john, began the inevitable 'Oh my
God', floating above the toilet seat because my ass is burning SO BAD,
purging.
One poor fellow walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true
meaning of 'Shock and Awe'. He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly
said, 'Sonofabitch!', then quickly left.
Once finished I left the restroom, reacquired my partially filled cart
intending to carry on with my shopping when a store
employee approached me and said, 'Sir, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to
take care of the problem.'
That of course set me off again, causing residual gases to escap me. The
employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to
cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, 'IT'S YOU!', then ran off returning moments later with the manager.. I was unceremoniously
escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.
Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to
eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I
went to shop at Albertson's. I can't say anymore about that because we are in
court over the whole matter.
The bastards claim they're going to have to repaint the store!
Don't hold your gas, it will swirl around in your
body until it creates those ****ty ideas in your brain
that course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous
evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my
patented 'You're definitely going to **** yourself chili..'
Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which
comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat it, the next
day both of your a$$ cheeks WILL fall off.
Here's the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two
cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened.
No "Watson's Movement 2'.
Despite habanera peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract,
I appeared to be unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to
by my next door neighbors as thunder and lightning.
Knowing that a time of reckoning had to come, yet not sure of just when,
I bravely set off for the market; a local Wal-Mart grocery store that I
often haunt in search of tasty tidbits.
Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I selected a cart
and began pushing it about dropping items in
for purchase. It wasn't until I was at the opposite end of the store from the restrooms that the
pain hit me. Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking
about. I'm referring to that 'Uh oh, gotta go' pain that always seems to
hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different !
The habaneras in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt.
In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small
intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I
could take one step in the direction of the restrooms which would bring
sweet relief, it happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.
There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped
in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was
afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my
body, and I began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as an elderly
woman turned into it.
I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction
would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate, as she
walked into it unsuspecting. Have you ever been torn
in two different directions emotionally? Here's what I mean, and I'm sure
some of you at least will be able to relate.
I could've warned that poor woman but didn't. I simply watched as she
walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so
terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running,
was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though
trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible,
but then made me laugh. Mistake.
Here's the thing. When you laugh, it's hard to keep things 'clamped
down', if you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst
forth from my nether region.. Some were so loud and echoing that I was
later told a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was
robbing the store and firing off a shotgun.
Suddenly things were no longer funny. IT was coming, and I raced off
through the store towards the restrooms, laying down a cloud the whole
way, praying that I'd make it before the grand mal assplosion took
place.
Luck was on my side.
Just in the nick of time I got to the john, began the inevitable 'Oh my
God', floating above the toilet seat because my ass is burning SO BAD,
purging.
One poor fellow walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true
meaning of 'Shock and Awe'. He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly
said, 'Sonofabitch!', then quickly left.
Once finished I left the restroom, reacquired my partially filled cart
intending to carry on with my shopping when a store
employee approached me and said, 'Sir, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to
take care of the problem.'
That of course set me off again, causing residual gases to escap me. The
employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to
cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, 'IT'S YOU!', then ran off returning moments later with the manager.. I was unceremoniously
escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.
Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to
eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I
went to shop at Albertson's. I can't say anymore about that because we are in
court over the whole matter.
The bastards claim they're going to have to repaint the store!
Don't hold your gas, it will swirl around in your
body until it creates those ****ty ideas in your brain
