I went to Wal-Mart the other day, while not being altogether sure that
course of action was a wise one. You see, the night before I had
prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented "you're definitely
going to s**t yourself" roadkill 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 habanero peppers swimming their way through my
intestinal tract, I was unable to create the usual morning symphony referred
to by my dear wife as 'thunder and lightning'.
Knowing that a time of reckoning HAD to come, yet not sure of just when, I
bravely set off for Wally’s World, my quest being duct tape and avocadoes…..it’s a long story, nevermind.
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, S**t, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us
at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different.
The habaneros 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 pasta & rice section, 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 a blue-aproned
clerk turned the corner and asked if I needed any help.
I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what his 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 clerk, but didn't. I simply watched as he
walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so
terrible that all he could do before gathering his senses and running, was
to stand there blinking and waving his arms about his 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 was later
told a few folks in the soup aisle 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 rest- rooms, 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! Did it smell that bad when you
ate it?', then quickly left.
Once finished and 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.'
My smirking 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 my supplies, I realized that there was nothing to eat but
leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. I later went to the Price Cutter grocery store down the street. 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...
course of action was a wise one. You see, the night before I had
prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented "you're definitely
going to s**t yourself" roadkill 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 habanero peppers swimming their way through my
intestinal tract, I was unable to create the usual morning symphony referred
to by my dear wife as 'thunder and lightning'.
Knowing that a time of reckoning HAD to come, yet not sure of just when, I
bravely set off for Wally’s World, my quest being duct tape and avocadoes…..it’s a long story, nevermind.
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, S**t, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us
at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different.
The habaneros 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 pasta & rice section, 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 a blue-aproned
clerk turned the corner and asked if I needed any help.
I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what his 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 clerk, but didn't. I simply watched as he
walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so
terrible that all he could do before gathering his senses and running, was
to stand there blinking and waving his arms about his 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 was later
told a few folks in the soup aisle 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 rest- rooms, 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! Did it smell that bad when you
ate it?', then quickly left.
Once finished and 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.'
My smirking 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 my supplies, I realized that there was nothing to eat but
leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. I later went to the Price Cutter grocery store down the street. 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...
