bingbongboo fun

Two little boys go into the grocery store. One is nine years old and the other one is four years old. The nine year old grabs a box of tampons from the shelf and carries it to the register for checkout. The cashier asks, “Oh, these must be for your mom, huh?”
The nine-year-old replies “Nope, not for my mom.”
Without thinking, the cashier responded “Well, they must be for your sister then?”
The nine year old quipped, “Nope, not for my sister either.”
The cashier had now become curious “Oh. Not for your mom and not for your sister? Who are they for?”
The nine year old says, “They’re for my four year old little brother.”
The cashier is surprised “Your four year old little brother?”
The nine year old explains: “Well yeah, they say on TV if you wear one of these, you can swim or ride a bike and my little brother can’t do either of them!”

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 shit 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. I think they are going
to be suing me as they claim they’re going to have to repaint the
store..