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 shit 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 butt 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 was 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. 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.
.......BIG 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, 'Son of a bitch!', 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 escape
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.
Bastards claim they're going to have to repaint
the store..
