I knew that one day the poop gods would turn their attention to me. Several family members have "bathroom issues," as I would call them. Many times I have been with them when they didn't make it to the bathroom, and I would laugh and laugh, finding their misfortune funny. So I knew this would turn around on me. Poop karma, you could call it. I was just waiting for the time my name would be called by the mighty bathroom gods to make me pay for the laughter I have had at others' expense.
Last Christmas, my time had come. I was shopping with my mother. It was just me and her, going to eat dinner and then hit some stores. We went to this Italian restaurant that serves the best spicy sausage I have ever had. So that's what I got -- a plate of make-you-break-out-in-sweats spicy sausage. It was wonderful. And when we left to go shopping, I was feeling fine.
Fast-forward thirty minutes. We are in the store. My stomach starts to cramp. I think nothing of it, because until then, I could always hold it. It never occurred to me that my name is being called.
After about five minutes of cramping, the gas comes. They are SBD'S and they are so foul I have to turn and look to make sure clouds of green smoke aren't trailing behind me. On top of that, the store is packed. I try each time to find an empty aisle in which to fart, feeling sorry for anyone who comes into that area after I left.
Finally the farts are getting so noisy and the cramps so bad that I can't stand up straight. I know I have to leave. I believe I can make it home.
The small seconds of relief before another cramp hit are my only salvation. I waddle, very slowly, over to my mother, and whisper that we have to go and go now.
So we got into the checkout line and from there to the car. By then, I had no cramping. No gas. It was like it had magically gone away. I was happy. My one final thought: "I will make it home."
Into the car we got and onward we went. After about twenty minutes, it all came back full force. It was a tsunami of poop slamming at my back door. I tightened every muscle in my body and fought waves of cramping and gas -- because I knew that with the gas would come an explosion of the watery kind. I started telling my mother to drive faster and faster and all the while she was laughing at me. The cramping reached unbearable pain and I was breathing deeply, slamming my fist on the door, yelling that I am going to let go all over her leather seats if she doesn't go faster. Five minutes from a toilet, the most wonderful thing ever invented, and I wasn't going to make it.
I wanted to cry. All I could think was that I didn't want to go like this. Not so close to Eden!
I looked up -- I'm there! I'm SAFE! The car had stopped and a bathroom was now just a few short steps away.
Then I looked up and remembered the stairs: the fourteen steps I would have to take to reach that glistening white angel. I sat in the car and, for the first time during all of this, felt pure panic. I opened the car door and decided then and there I was running. Nothing was going to stop me.
I took off like I was going for gold in the Olympic hurdles. I charged up those steps and into the house, and I was in the bathroom in less than thirty seconds.
Sweet relief! I ripped off my pants and underwear, and sat.
And waited. The cramping and gas came -- and nothing followed.
Finally it all came rushing out of me like someone going down a Slip �n Slide. It was a normal poop. After all of that, nothing major happened. Not even an odor followed the ordeal I had endured. I was slightly disappointed and very tired, to say the least. After all of that, I just wanted to nap.
It was a warning.
A warning from the poop gods, telling me that what I had just experienced was like riding the teacups at Six Flags compared to what they had in store for me. I am a toy for their amusement and there is nothing I could do about it.
Slightly disappointed at the end of this story? Don't worry. I am sure that, in the future, I will have a story that will go down as a poop legend. For karma, as they say, is a bitch; and karma had just given me a taste of what is planned for my future. I have a poop destiny.
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