Chili
I went grocery shopping this weekend, which in hindsight may not have
> been very wise.
>
> You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive
> quantity of my patented 'You're definitely going to poop 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 arse 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 Wal-Mart grocery store for some
> tasty breakfast and lunch 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 act 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 invisible but odorous cloud 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 grandmal
> buttplosion 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 arse 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 biscuit! ', 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 Kroger's. I can't say anymore about
> that because we are in court over the whole matter.
> Buzzards claim they're going to have to repaint the
> store
