Chil Out With Red Hot Chill Gastromomic Consequesces

What's For Dinner Tonight

I went grocery shopping recently even though experience has taught me that's not always wise. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented 'You're definitely going to be sorry' chili.. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, and should come with a written guarantee from me that if you enjoy it today both of your ass cheeks WILL end up scorched and fall off tomorrow.

I had awakened that morning, and even after two cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. No pain, no cramps, no gas, no 'Movement' whatsoever. 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 grabbed a cart and began pushing it about dropping items in as I went up and down the aisles. 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 had bullied their way through the small intestines, forced their way into the large intestines, and before I could take a 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 passed me and 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 stood there and watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of gasses so terrible that all she could do before coming to 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 it also made me laugh. Mistake. 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 another explosion burst forth from my nether region. Suddenly things were no longer funny. IT was coming, and I raced off through the store towards the restrooms, abandoning my cart and laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I'd make it before the grandmal assplosion took place.

Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got through the door, into the stall, and 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, a couple more strange noises, finally got out a 'Sonofabitch!', then ran out the door.

When it was finally over, I left the restroom and made it back to reacquire my partially filled cart, in tending 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, trying to keep from laughing, and causing residual gases to escape.

The employee started to turn around, took a breath, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointed at me and shouted, 'IT'S YOU!', then ran off returning moments later with the manager and a couple of big rejects from the World Wrestling Foundation. I was yanked away from my cart, unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.

Home again without having anything to show for my trip, 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