Data
2009-08-15 12:37:25 UTC
Bunnings - a hardware chain
Woolworths - supermarket chain
I went to Bunnings 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 s**t
yourself' road-kill chilli. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being
painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat it,
the next day both of your butt 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 was unable to create the usual morning symphony referred
to by my dear wife as 'thunder and lightning'.
Knowing that a time of reckoning HAD to come, yet not sure of just when, I
bravely set off for Bunnings, my quest being paint and supplies to refinish
the den. 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, Shit, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us
at the wrong time.. The thing is, this pain was different. The habaneras in
the chilli 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 paint and stain section, 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 a red aproned
clerk turned the corner and asked if I needed any help.
I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what his reaction
would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate.. 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 clerk, but didn't. I simply watched as he walked
into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible
that all he could do before gathering his senses and running, was to stand
there blinking and waving his arms about his head as though trying to ward
off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me
laugh. .......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 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, 'Son-of-a-bitch!, did it smell that bad when you ate it?',
then quickly left.
Once finished and 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.'
My smirking 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 my supplies, I realized that there was nothing to eat but
leftover chilli, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to shop
at Woolies . 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.
Woolworths - supermarket chain
I went to Bunnings 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 s**t
yourself' road-kill chilli. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being
painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat it,
the next day both of your butt 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 was unable to create the usual morning symphony referred
to by my dear wife as 'thunder and lightning'.
Knowing that a time of reckoning HAD to come, yet not sure of just when, I
bravely set off for Bunnings, my quest being paint and supplies to refinish
the den. 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, Shit, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us
at the wrong time.. The thing is, this pain was different. The habaneras in
the chilli 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 paint and stain section, 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 a red aproned
clerk turned the corner and asked if I needed any help.
I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what his reaction
would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate.. 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 clerk, but didn't. I simply watched as he walked
into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible
that all he could do before gathering his senses and running, was to stand
there blinking and waving his arms about his head as though trying to ward
off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me
laugh. .......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 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, 'Son-of-a-bitch!, did it smell that bad when you ate it?',
then quickly left.
Once finished and 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.'
My smirking 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 my supplies, I realized that there was nothing to eat but
leftover chilli, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to shop
at Woolies . 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.