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 the next day both of your
ass 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 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 pu****ng 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,
'Sonofa*****!', 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 ****rt 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
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