I visited Home Depot recently, not being sure that was a wise move.  You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed three bowls of my patented, “You’re definitely going to shit yourself” chili.  Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, and it comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat a bowl, the next day both of your ass cheeks will fall off.

Here’s the thing.  I awoke that morning, and even after two cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean), nothing happened—no “Haley’s Movement 2.”  Despite those 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 Home Depot in search of impulse purchases.  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 rest rooms that the pain hit me.  Oh, don’t look like you don’t know what I’m talking about.  I’m referring to that “Uh oh, gotta go” pain that always seems to come at the wrong time.
 
But this pain was different.  The habaneras in the chili from the night before were staging a full-fledged revolt in my gut.  In a mad rush for freedom, they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines.  Before I could take one step in the direction of the rest rooms that would bring sweet relief, it happened.  The peppers fired a warning shot.
 
There I stood, alone in the hardware aisle, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded by mankind.  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 hardware aisle and out of it, just as a young lad wearing studs in both ears turned into it.
 
I really 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, as he walked into it unsuspecting.

 
I could’ve warned the gothchild, but I didn’t.  I simply watched as he walked into an invisible, 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 a swarm of angry bees.
 
This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then it made me giggle.  BIG mistake.
 
When you laugh, it’s hard to keep things “clamped down.”  With each new snicker, an explosive issue of unseen gas burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that folks nearby ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing off some sort of assault weapon.

 

Suddenly things were no longer funny.  IT was coming, and I raced off through the store toward 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 shit was burning SO BAD, purging.  One poor guy walked in while I was in the middle of learning the true meaning of “Shock and Awe.”  He made a gagging sound, moaned, then quickly left.
 
Once finished, I left the restroom.  I approached my shopping cart when a store employee came over 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 laughing again, causing residual gases to escape me.  The employee jumped back wide-eyed, pulling his shirt up to cover his nose.  “It’s you!” he gasped, returning moments later with the manager.
 
I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises, so I’m now boycotting Home Depot.  I sort of have to.  They ordered me never to come back.

 

When I reached home again without having shopped, there was nothing to eat but that delicious leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls.
 
The next day I went to shop at Wal-Mart.  I can’t say any more about that because we are due in court over the whole matter.  Can you believe this?  They claim they’re going to have to repaint the whole super-store.