I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether
sure if 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
$h!t 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,
'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
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 Kroger'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...
sure if 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
$h!t 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,
'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
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 Kroger'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...
