I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether sure that
said course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I
had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented 'Killer
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 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 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 f ear 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. 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 butt 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, ' Oh my Lord',
then quickly left.
Once finished I left t he 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 Food City. I can't say anymore about that because
w e are in court over the whole matter. They claim they're going to
have to repaint the store...
said course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I
had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented 'Killer
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 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 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 f ear 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. 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 butt 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, ' Oh my Lord',
then quickly left.
Once finished I left t he 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 Food City. I can't say anymore about that because
w e are in court over the whole matter. They claim they're going to
have to repaint the store...
