The story I am about to tell you did NOT happen to me. It happened to my friend. Really.
I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and she was telling about how busy her day was. She has a family member that had broken a large bone and had to have a lot of extra help and her grandson was living with her and going to school. Balancing her household duties, helping her 8 years old grandson with homework, getting him on the school bus, helping her family member with health problems, etc. makes for a busy day.
My friend is tall, slim, blond and likes to wear pastel colored clothes. She had gotten her grandson off to school and had to run to the grocery store before going to relieve her sister of her shift as nurse. She had her basket and was picking out the things she needed. As she rounded one of the end caps at the head of the baking aisle, she had to fart. Ever heard of the old saying, “I trusted that fart a little too much?” Well there she was, noticing that fart was really warm and didn’t stop. We are in our fifties when the ole sphincter muscle don’t work as well as it should. As she realized that she was shitting her pants, she grab the butt checks on both sides and power walked-race down the aisle headed for the employees bathroom at the back of the store. I told her that I would have grabbed a bag of chocolate chips and dropped them behind me so people would think I was just dropping chocolate pieces. She told me that she had her purse covering her butt in case there was a big old brown stain on her shorts.
She made it to the bathroom stall and let her diarrhea finish it’s job. She had to take her panties off and rinse them off in the commode and wrap them in a couple of paper towels. ( I told her that I would have thrown those suckers in the trash. She said she couldn’t because she was pantie poor and couldn’t be throwing them away. ) In order to get her panties off, of course she had to strip from the waist down. As she was standing there, naked from the waist down, another person ran into the bathroom and was jerking on the door to her stall before figuring out that someone was already in there. I asked my friend if she called out that someone was already in here? She said, ‘No, but I think she could see me thru the crack in the door.’ We started howling at that thought. My friend said that after the woman was secure in her stall, she flew out of the bathroom, not even stopping to wash her hands because she didn’t want the woman coming out of the stall and seeing her. As she made her way to the front of the store without the rest of her things, she felt like ‘pig pen’ from Charlie Brown where she has the cloud of funk following her everywhere she went. She made it home as the store was maybe 1/4 of a mile away. She didn’t have time to take a shower, she just cleaned her butt cheeks with a washcloth, put on new panties and was out of the door again, flying to her appointed shift. When she walked into the house, her sister said, “I smell dirty butt!” I fell of the couch at that point. This didn’t happen to me. I promise. I only shat my pants at work. And at a restaurant.
I also forgot to tell you about another story from my essay on Dating a Serial Killer. As I said, he was a truck driver. One day, I found a pink nightgown in his sleeper. I ask him, “Who does this belong to?” And he answered, “It’s mine.” I looked at him and said,”Put it on.” He put it on and it fit him! Now I don’t know which thought was worse, thinking he was cheating on me or that he actually DID wear it. After all, he did shave all of his body hair.