Killer Chili:

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
poop yourself" 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 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. 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. .......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 explosion took place.

Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the john, began
the inevitable 'Oh my Goodness', 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, 'Sonofagun!', 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 Kroger's. I can't say anymore about that because we are in court
over the whole matter. Crazy people claim they're going to have to
repaint the store...