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, S*hit, 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 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-b*itch!, 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. *******s claim they're going to have to repaint the store.

Well, I guess this go over well in both groups.

What I can't believe is that you farted in a public place, 100 yards
away from the bathroom, without an extra pair of underwear handy,
knowing you had the shits.

-sw