I woke up this morning and the sun was gone…
Wait….I stole that from the Mega Band Boston…but it fits this morning.
Let me tell you what happened and will probably CONTINUE to happen.
It IS Monday after all….
The sun WAS gone this morning when I woke up, but I can see it is coming up now…so that’s a relief.
After I got up, I decided that it was time for my morning constitutional at the Throne of Reflection.
As you probably know from reading my earlier posts, Gravity has a detrimental effect on my gastrointestinal refuse retention ability.
I had to go….quickly, and with much haste.
Note FYI: It is impossible to poop your pants when you are running. (Field tested)
There were a couple of things that were whipping thru my mind as I set a new land speed record for fat truck drivers…
1) This is a small truck stop in rural Georgia and probably has only one unisex bathroom
2) And I wonder if my hair is sticking up….
I slowed my warp speed as I came to the door of the store.
I didn’t want to look as if though I was harried and panicked.
Sexiness must be maintained….
I had to look relaxed and cool.
I am ME…after all.
I was quickly reminded that relaxing at that moment was not a good idea.
When I opened the door and started to enter the store, my intestinal fortitude was breached.
I “prairie dogged”.
The turtle popped his head out.
My “dingle berries” were ready to be picked.
I was about to drop the kids off at the pool, and there was no water close by.
I froze. I stiffened. I assumed the Yoga stance of “No Poop”.
I began to absorb all the oxygen in the air with a deep, slow intake of breath…channeling all my inner mantras in an effort to TRY and control the demons that were lurking in my gut.
Remember now, I’m still standing in the door, it’s half opened, my eyes are kinda bugged out and I’m sucking wind, my face is flushed from sprinting, my hair is sticking up from pillow rape and I’m 6’ tall, 245 lbs in shorts, wearing flip flops….
And my shirt is on backward….annnd I’m holding a box of baby wipes.
Did I mention it was 4 am?
The clerk came up from behind the counter with an UZI. She began pumping lead at me from a distance of about 10’. I saw the bullets coming at me in slow motion. I dove for the floor thru a hail of hot lead and blinding smoke and the smell of burning cordite…the clatter of spent cartridges hitting the floor!
Not really…But in case I pooped my pants, I had to have a good excuse…right?
I stepped into the store, slowly letting the door close behind me. The clerk eyed me suspiciously.
I squeaked…”Boys room…?”
She indicated the direction with a nod of her head.
I did the ballerina walk thingee across the store towards the hallway where the boy’s room was supposed to be.
I noticed that there was a sign on the door to the men’s potty.
It read as thus “Wet Paint, New Tile”
“Hissss” I hissed.
I looked to my right.
There was no sign on the woman’s bathroom.
How sad is it when we are so conditioned by certain social taboos that a grown man will stand in a hallway, stare at a women’s bathroom door and SHIT HIS PANT’S before he would ever let his big hairy hoo ha’s corrupt the sanitary sanctum of the fairer sex?
But not this guy….
I kicked in the door…3 ninjas dropped from the ceiling hurling ninja stars and whipping their katana swords at my head. I blocked the stars with my baby wipes box, and kicked the first ninja in his moo goo gai pans, and…
But I did slide onto the potty as if though hitting third base during the world series, bottom of the ninth…down one run…2 on base, 2 outs and Mighty Casey is coming to the plate.
Note FYI: This coffee has got dope in it or something…
I threw back the stall door, crashing onto the donational altar of the Throne of Reflection. I released the demons with extreme prejudice…and a disappointing, unmanly…”pweeeek” from the toothless one.
An elderly, sweet voice in the stall next to mine said “Show off…”
I blurted out “The men’s potty was closed! I didn’t have any choice, I’m so sorry; I didn’t figure anyone would be in here this early in the morning…”
I was so embarrassed…
The old lady from the next stall continued “I’m 83 years old; I’m glad if I can make it to a pot most times and not pooty myself’
Yep…granny said “pooty”
I didn’t say anything.
I just tried to take care of my business without any further peep or pooty.
The old lady from the next stall continued “Now see what you’ve done…?”
I looked down at the floor, just knowing I’d missed the potty.
Not seeing any gastro-graffiti on my feet or the walls of the stall, I said”What’d I do ma’am…?”
She giggled and said “After that noise you made in there, my booty has stage fright and it clamped shut tighter than a frog’s butt!”
Her cackling laughs echoed thru the bathroom.
Yep…granny said “booty”…. (I tried to imagine MY granny saying “booty”…nope; she calls it a “pa-tootie”)
What could I say to that? I just gave a low acknowledgment of her crudeness and hurriedly finished up.
And of course as I was exiting the women’s bathroom a harried mother and her little girl were coming INTO the bathroom.
Why is everyone up at 4 am on a Monday I thought?
The little ankle biter informed me and her mother that I wasn’t supposed to be in the ladies room.
Her mother didn’t care. Her hair was messed up to.
I walked up to the counter with my doped coffee.
The teen-aged cashier looked at me and said “You’re…shirt’s on backwards”
I remembered now… “Thank you Holmes” I started to say, but instead I whimpered like a girly man and cried ”Dang, I was in a hurry to get to the potty (grinning sweetly).”
I continued, pumping my thumb over my shoulder “…The men’s room is closed”
“Oh…No it’s not” she said “They just keep forgetting to take that damn sign down”
She lifted the little counter thingee and headed towards the bathroom area.
“I hope the Ninjas get her” I thought.
Then I heard the shrill cry of a little girl from the bathroom and the cackling of an old woman.
I grabbed up all my instantly shoplifted items and bolted out the door.
There is evil here….