WARNING : ONLY Read This When You Are Able To LAUGH OUT LOUD.
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 my patented 'you're definitely going to shit yourself'
road-kill chili. Tasty stuff, although 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 . . . Despite the chillies 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 chillies 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 chillies 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 a 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 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 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 Lowes.
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.