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I went grocery shopping recently while not being
altogether sure that said 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 mess 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 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 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 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, 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 butt 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, " Oh my God!", 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 Albertson's. I
can't say anymore about that because we are in court over
the whole matter. They claim they're going to have to
repaint the store.