I went grocery shopping 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 shit 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 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, 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, wal l 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 < BR>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 Albertson'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..









NOTE~ this wasn't really me; I am not a man, I cannot drive, I cannot make chili, but this is REALLY funny so i posted it anyway.