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 crap 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 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
2". espite 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, 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 grand mal assplosion 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 butt 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,
"Sonofab....!", 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. They claim
they're going to have to repaint the store...