I went to 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 Ron Ott's patented, 'you're definitely going
to suffer tomorrow,' road-kill venison chili. Tasty stuff, although hot to the
point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from Ron
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. Despite the chilies 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 Home Depot, my
quest being paint and supplies to refinish the deck. 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 toilets 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, Shit, gotta go' pain that
always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was
different. The chilies 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 toilets which would
bring sweet relief, it happened. The chilies fired a warning shot.
There I stood, alone in the paint and stain
section, suddenly enveloped in a toxic 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 orange 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 toxic non-visible fog 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 toilet, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I'd
make it before the grand explosion 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, 'Son-of-a-bitch!, 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 aprom 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
matter. Bastards claim they're going to have to repaint the
store.
of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had prepared
and consumed a massive quantity of Ron Ott's patented, 'you're definitely going
to suffer tomorrow,' road-kill venison chili. Tasty stuff, although hot to the
point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from Ron
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. Despite the chilies 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 Home Depot, my
quest being paint and supplies to refinish the deck. 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 toilets 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, Shit, gotta go' pain that
always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was
different. The chilies 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 toilets which would
bring sweet relief, it happened. The chilies fired a warning shot.
There I stood, alone in the paint and stain
section, suddenly enveloped in a toxic 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 orange 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 toxic non-visible fog 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 toilet, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I'd
make it before the grand explosion 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, 'Son-of-a-bitch!, 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 aprom 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
matter. Bastards claim they're going to have to repaint the
store.
