The Calamity Shane Saga continues with quite possibly the most embarrassing moment I've had since I sharted on the plane when I was 25.
I was having a bit of a rough night emotionally last night, a few tears and wonderings of why me. As a result of those raw emotions, I dipped into my stash of chocolate and cakes, knowing full well that by morning it'd play my pancreas up. "I don't really care" says I.
Well that was soon to change...
After I'd gorged on my mini sugar feast, my internals started it's usual protest when I eat the stuff we all love to eat when we're down and making the grumbling and gurglings of the drains outside your local curry house on a Friday night.
"ah man... Stoopid Stoopid Stoopid" says I. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep, waking only a few times for a buttock clenching moment or two.
I awake with a start, it's still dark I think but I've black out blinds so I don't really notice.It's coming... Gurgle, bubble, gurgle, I'll be ok. Bubble, bubble, gurgle, yeah I'll be fine... Aaaaaahhhhhh shiiiiiiittttt... Quick "To the loo mobile!" (my favourite saying when I need to rush for the khazi)
I'm pretty adept at doing that all in one motion of unbuttoning, whipping down, lifting lid and planting arse, as this disease has taught me well.PPPPAAAAAAARRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP.... POPOPOPOP PARPARPARPARP (and all the other noises a "Honey Wagon" would make in a head on collision with say, the frigging moon...) "HOLY MOTHER OF LUCIFERS SISTER!"
A huge sigh of relief, the pain subsides, and I fully regret my chocolate scoffing decision. A few seconds of contemplation were loudly interrupted by an awkward knock on the window and a shaky voice says" are you ok in there son?" No, please god no.. Oh no. No. No. No. No. Ah man... Who's out there... Is that a small child crying? Oh god no...
"Erm yes, thank you sir. Just um er erm um"
Man: "You scared the hell out of my granddaughter! I'm not sure she'll ever recover from that! What the hell did you eat?"
Man: "She'll be ok. Do you need any help? An ambulance perhaps"
Now I'm thinking you can go now. My legs are deader than my great granny and I can't feel my feet and the draught coming up the pooper hole is ice cold (yes I remembered to open it this time )
"Son?" girl still snivelling outside "son?" "hello?" "he's probably shit himself to death love.
If the vans still here in a couple of hours I'll call the police"
Que close credit's, curtains down.
My life is over...