Death in a shiny green bag
Did you know that it's actually dangerous to eat Lay's sour cream and onion potato chips? It's true. I found out the hard way. Or rather the semi-hard way.
I went to church this morning because, contrary to what you might think, I'm not a screaming, pornographic, college-girl molesting, drunken, brawling pagan. Afterwards I talked some guy's head off about taxes and budgets and things of which I knew little and he knew a great deal. So of course I said a lot of stupid shit and was wrong all the time. That's always fun.
After that I went home and ate lunch. It was nothing special, but with my boring sandwich I had some potato chips. Not just any old chips, oh no, I had Lay's Sour Cream and Onion potato chips. And I had lots of them.
About an hour or two after eating, I went to Home Depot to buy some crap to deal with yet another damn leak in the very same pipes the plumbers just worked on. Being the typical trip to Home Depot, I was there for at least an hour. And while I was there something strange began to happen. I was standing there in the isle, holding an armload of tape and putty and crap when suddenly my intestines began to talk to me.
They said, "Hey, wanna see me poop right here in the isle at Home Depot?"
And I said, "No, I really don't want to see that."
But they kept coming back and insisting, "no really, I can do it. Watch!"
Just as this was occurring, I found a Home Depot person to help me with my search for plumbing supplies and ant poisons. The problem was, she talked my head off. It was an interesting conversation, and I didn't want to leave, but the entire time she was talking to me my butt was talking too. And my butt was louder than she was.
She'd say, "I got 20 acres about an hour and a half from here for a decent price."
And then he'd say, "I'M GONNA BLOW!!!!"
Then I'd say, "An hour and a half, eh?" as I moved my body around in various ways in an attempt to silence the avalanche of poo that was trying to build a bomb inside of me. I was gradually being transformed into one of those suicide bombers, except that instead of a belt of C4 and some shrapnel, I had an ass full of semi-liquid shit.
By the way, did you know that "shrapnel" was a man who invented a type of cannon ball which was intended to be shot high up in the air over the heads of enemy troops so that it exploded above their heads and sent hundreds of tiny metal balls shooting into them, tearing them to shreds? It's true. He was Lord Shrapnel or Baron Shrapnel or something, and his invention was considered revolutionary to warfare. I learned that today while sitting on the couch eating those damned potato chips and watching the History Channel.
So anyway, this cute 25-year-old girl was talking to me for at least 30 minutes about plumbing, ant poison, buying land at a price normal human beings can afford around here, and all the associated hassles that go with trying to buy land and then build a house on it later, even as my ass was boiling and toiling like a witch's cauldron outside on the lawn of a falsely accused Duke University Lacrosse player's house while feminist bigots chanted "castrate him" over and over, without caring that he was actually innocent and without ever apologizing or expressing the slightest ounce of regret for it. Yes, my ass was acting just like that. I expect my ass to be receiving a notification of tenure approval from Duke any day now, actually. And then my ass can begin teaching women's studies there. But I digress.
So there I was, squeezing my ass cheeks as tight as I could, hoping against hope that I didn't squeeze a tiny missile turd out due to the extreme pressure, and all the while I was wondering, "What the hell caused this?"
That's when I remembered the chips. "Damn sour cream and onion!" I shouted in my head, even as I smiled to the girl and nodded along. "Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That's great. I gotta go. See ya."
And then I did that ass-squeezing rapid waddle-walk that people do when their ass is trying to launch a ship and they are trying to prevent it. I went to the register, glanced at the lines and the cashiers looking for one that looked fast, competent, and not busy, and finally ended up racing to the do-it-yourself checkout. I was through the checkout in record time and racing out into the parking lot as quickly as I could.
When I got home I came through the door, dropped the bags in the floor as I raced through straight to the bathroom. I nearly couldn't drop my pants fast enough, but I made it. And just in time. The resulting explosion nearly lifted me off the toilet completely. I think I crapped for 10 straight minutes without stopping before I was done. Afterwards I looked down and saw that I had filled the toilet up, above the water and everything. It was a nasty sight.
And then, when I flushed the toilet, of course, it overflowed.
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