Hot Poop
Submitted by: The Mulc
I pooped in Cumming, GA today, but that's not what this story is about.
You see, I never liked spicy food as a child. Actually, I didn't even
like hot [temperature] food. I preferred Cheerios and cold,
cold milk. However, as my culinary experiences grew and my preferences
evolved (music play in my head: French Fries with Pepper by
Morphine), I started liking hot, then hot [spicy] food.
Flash forward some amount of time... On a cruise in the Caribbean...
More precisely, I am on a side-trip on a 60' catamaran in Antiqua and,
after snorkeling and drinking rum punch and cans of shitty-but-cool
local beer, I felt brave. The crew was cooking "chicken, mon" because
everyone down there apparently wants to be Jamaican, especially the guy
with the gnarly raven's-claw-feet called Wonluv. (Pronounce it.
You'll get it.) They hand me a plate with chicken and a bottle of hot
sauce. No label. No cap. Crusty top. Yellow goo with little
multi-colored floaties, suspended. (I think the science term is
colloid.) The entire crew looking. Me. Open cap. Shake. Shake.
Dot the crap out of the chicken. They smile. "Enjoy de Iii-land flavour,"
Wonluv says to me.
I sit down to eat. Well, mes amis, it would be days before I took that act
for granted again.
So the sauce was HOT going in. Ooooo, it etched its satisfying, tasty
burn down my throat, warming my gut like few things can (and Ron Bacoy
is all that comes to mind - side note, don't drink rum that starts with
the name "Ron B__" as they are clearly trying to win your sale based on
stupidity or desperation, not quality and repeat business).
Flash forward - back on the cruise ship. There's a rumbly in my
tumbly. Again, the sauce was HOT going in, but oOOoh, daddy*, was
it HOT coming out?!? (* Why is it that when I make reference to my ass
hurting I say "oOOoh, daddy?")
Continuing, this was the first time I shat in a cruise ship, right...?
Well, I just sat myself down and did my thang. I decided to do myself
the courtesy (you know how it goes...) and flushed mid-go.
WHHhhOOoOoOoOssHhShhshHHSShhhh! All of the air in that little bathroom
rushed between my legs (scene from Aliens where Ripley is
hanging on to the ladder for dear life as the mother-alien is sucked out of the
spaceship into the vacuum of space). I had to touch myself. I thought
I'd lost my friends.
Moral: No courtesy on cruise-ships. Use the lobby bathrooms.
posted by Blue Towel @ 2:03 PM
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