I went to the 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 s**t yourself' roadkill chili.
Tasty stuff, albeit 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 2'. Despite habanera peppers 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 the Depot, my quest being paint and supplies to
refinish the den.



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 paint and stain section, 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 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 malodorous effluvium 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 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, 'Sonofa*****!, 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 Lowe'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.

__________________
1987 560SL
85,000 miles