[CH] OT Banned at Wal Mart

Byron (byronbromley@tellink.net)
Mon, 05 May 2008 20:04:45 -0400 

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 $h!t 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 a$$ 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 habanero 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 habaneros in the chili from the night before were staging a
revolt. In a 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