Thursday, February 4, 2010

Need a Laugh?

from an email I received today:

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 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 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 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-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.


Old NFO said...

Oh man... :-)

SewerDweller said...

hey, this is Urso. thanks I needed the laugh.

Crucis said...

Never be caught on a C-124 on an extended flight after consuming a large portion of sausage, beans and rice---Louisiana style. C-124s weren't known as "Old Shakey" without reason.

Berys said...

Julie ....he he he so funny I nearly wet my knickers

OrangeNeck said...

You should've said (in the Terminator voice) "I'll be back."

ZerCool said...

A member on a forum I frequent posted this gem last week - and I believe it to be true.
Jr. and I took another one of our road trips this weekend. I took yesterday off and the plan was visit the CMP (Civilian Markmanship Program) in Anniston,Ala, on Friday, stay at Desota State Park in Ft. Payne, Ala. on Friday night, go by Trade Day early Saturday in Collinsville, Ala. (a very large flea market,antique,livestock sale), zip across Lookout Mountain to Rome, Ga. for an antique bottle show, and then try to get to Birmingham for at least an hour or two of the Alabama Collectors Assn. show. All of these objectives were met even though we didn't get to Birmingham until 4 a.m.

Even though we bought two carbines, a Nazi marked rare Astra, a minty five inch,five screw .38 M&P pre 10, (thanks to my FFL Machine Gun Mike faxing over a copy of his FFL) and several antique bottles, that isn't what this thread is about.

Last night somewhere between Anniston and Ft. Payne we found a real nice all you can eat Mexican restaurant .I had all I could eat with a cold beer or three on the side. Best salsa I've had in a long time. I got up this morning and had three gourmet cups of motel type coffee just before discovering the breakfast buffet at the state park. I always eat too much on this trips and this one was no exception. The breakfast was really good.

We left Ft. Payne and went to Collinsville. It was wet,cold, and windy and most of the vendors didn't show up. Jr. and I walked around and looked at the booths of the ones who did come and as we started to leave I was struck by Montezuma's revenge. I can only imagine how a woman feels when the "baby turns" and I told Jr. what the problem was and he said he would go warm up the truck. I found relief nearby at what I would call one of the strangest restrooms I've ever seen. It was marked "boys" on the door. It looked sort of normal on the outside, but after hurriedly entering the contraption I noticed it looked like something that had been whacked off a motor home or camper. It had a little tiny toilet, little tiny sink, and little tiny shower. I don't know what the shower was for.

I got inside and managed to find a place to hang my jacket. I squeezed down onto the toilet (I'm 6'2, 280) and as I sat down my knees touched the sink. As all kinds of bad things began to happen somebody began to bang on the door. I managed to yell "occupied!" but the banging continued on the door. I knew this would probably take awhile and I yelled back through the door that "you might want to look somewhere else!" The banging on the door continued. The misery and the banging continued for a few more minutes until I was finally able to get my pants up, put my coat back on, wash my hands in the tiny sink and flush the tiny toilet.

I couldn't tell exactly what the guy outside the toilet was saying but he did seem to be in a hurry. As I was unlocking the toilet door I noticed that the toilet was stopped up and was starting to overflow. It wasn't pleasant in there at all. As I opened the door, the doorbanger rushed in cursing me about "hogging the toilet" (he didn't say it that nice) and I could hear him locking the door as he gagged. I noticed a hasp and a padlock on the outside of the toilet after he slammed the door and decided that if he wanted to be in there that bad I would let him stay there for awhile. I locked the door from the outside. Maybe he's out by now. I don't care. I yelled back through the door "if you want to beat on the door, do it from the inside!"

I got back to the truck pretty fast and told Jr. we needed to go now.

Julie said...

rofl ZerCool