quiet says I had to go to the hardware store....
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 $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
the
> next day both of your a$$ 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 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 the Home Depot store th at
> I often haunt in search of manly tools and supplies.
>
> 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 paint supplies aisle, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud the
> likes of wh ich 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 unsusp ecting. 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 sense s 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 l onger 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 disgusted ly said, 'Wot=tha, 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, I realized that I had forgot to pick up any food as well
> and there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two mor
e bowls. The next day I went to shop at Target. 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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