Chili -- the morning after...
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Chili - the morning after!

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 #### 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 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...

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