Saturday, December 1, 2012
A Shit Day
There have been a few occasions where I've shit in my pants. Once I was riding my bike on the eastside of Milwaukee and I had a shittack. I remember I was wearing umbros. What a mess... Another time I was outside working rock wall construction in the dead of winter and shit in my longjohns. I was able to use a nearby business's restroom and had to leave my underwear in their wastepaper basket. But, there was one instance in particular where it was just the catalyst of an entire day of shit. Here is the holiday tale of when I shit in my pants working at the mall...
My Mom had one of those kiosks where she sold this diet/energy pill called Metabolife. I don't think it exists anymore because it made some people's hearts explode or something. Anyways, she let me work there while I was finishing up my degree. It was a cold, snowy morning and I just entered the mall to open up the kiosk. I was out the night before drinking with friends, so it was no coincidence I was feeling a bit shitty . As I was walking past Cinnabon, I felt a fart come on deep from the pits of Mordor. I released the stink valve and it was one of those that was hot, like steam. But the heat didn't end there. It ended down my leg. I stopped immediately in my tracks. I thought of going to the restroom, but the damage was done. Only a full shower and change of clothes was going to help me. I got back in my car and drove straight to my parents place, as they were the closest place of refuge.
I ran into the house and explained to my Dad what happened. After a brief chuckle, he (having shit-his-pants himself) understood my situation completely and as I peeled off my soiled garments and jumped in the shower, went to fetch me a pair of his pantalones. I ended up leaving in a pair of tan corduroys about two inches too short in length. I hurried back to the mall, irritated to see a few people hovering like vultures waiting for me to open up.
The day sludged onward. It was like a week before Christmas, so the place was packed with idiots. In fact, Santa was in the same area as my kiosk and the line to sit on the old fart's lap was beginning to creep right past me. All I wanted was for the day to be over and to go home. I was still more than a little hungover and I looked like an idiot in my bright red Metabolife shirt and these tan, cord, high-waters. As I sat on my stool, my white socks could be seen floating far below, on top of my old-skool vans. Sitting there, looking like some kind of donker, I see the most popular girl from my high school class approaching in the distance. I tried to hide, by pretending to stock jars of diet pills, but it was to no avail. I hadn't seen her since graduation almost ten years past and today is the day to catch up. We make smalltalk, she gives me the once over and continues with her shopping, probably using our meeting as fodder for the next glory-days-gossip session.
That line for Santa was now so long it wrapped right around my entire kiosk and down the main hallway. Two of my cousins happened to be doing some last minute shopping and stopped by to say hello. They immediately started laughing at my pants. I recanted the day's happenings with them. There were so many people around me that I was actually confused when I felt something small and wet hit me in the back of the neck. I caught a whiff of rotten eggs and heard a snicker behind me. I'd had enough experience myself with stink-bombs in high school to know what happened. Anger coursed through me like spinach to Popeye. I turned in the direction I'd been hit and caught eye's with a couple teenagers trying to hide their amusement. Without thinking I screamed at the top of my lungs "FUCKING COCK SUCKER!!!" and grabbed one by the throat..."I'M TAKING YOU TO FUCKING SECURITY YOU FUCK!!". With my hand still on his throat, I slowly awoke from my haze of rage. I began to realize the reality of my surroundings and saw horrified parents covering their children's ears. My eyes followed the line all the way to Santa, who was shaking his head and looking at me with disgust. I realized everyone was staring at me and I loosened my grip and let go of the young punk. The kid who was in my grasp looked terrified, but his friend was laughing his ass off. "LOOK AT YOU! YOU LOOK LIKE YOU CAME FROM A TRAILER PARK!!". They both took off running, lost in the crowd. I actually snickered under my breath, because he was right. I looked like a fucking crazy redneck. My cousins were laughing too. I told the assholes to watch my kiosk and stomped away, high on adrenaline...head hung low in embarrassment.
Shitting in your pants is not the end of the world. From these experiences I've learned that it is the deal-breaker of excuses to get out of anything. In any situation, if you tell whoever is expecting you, "I shit in my pants", they are not going to expect to see you anytime soon. It's a no-questions-asked topic. One time I had one of those days I really didn't want to go in to the office, so I called up my boss and said "Hey, I was on the subway coming in to work and I shit in my pants". He said, "Alright, see you tomorrow". The worst after effect you'll receive is a little bit of ribbing from you're co-workers, but big deal...everyone shit's in their pants from time to time.