> 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 chit 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.
>
> The bastards claim they're going to have to repaint the
> store
Author
Topic: Don't Eat the Chili (Read 774 times)