I went to the Home Depot 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 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 habanera
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 the Depot, my quest
being paint and supplies to refinish the den.
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 paint and stain 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 an red 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 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!, 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. The next day I went to shop at Lowe's. I can't say
anymore about that because we are in court over the whole
Bastards claim they're going to have to repaint the store..