[jshillin]

I just got this forward, had to post it...


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 shit 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 ass 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
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 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, 'Sonofabitch!', 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. Bastards claim they're
going to have to repaint the
store..