“I went grocery shopping, sure that that was a wise decision. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive amount of my homemade chili.”
I went grocery shopping, sure that that was a wise decision. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive amount of my homemade chili. Some pretty tasty stuff, but it’s very spicy to the point of it being painful. It comes with a guarantee (from me) that if you eat it, your body will fall apart the next day.
Here’s the thing. I awakened that morning, and even after having two bowls of my homemade chili, nothing happened. Despite the habanero peppers swimming throughout my body, I appeared to be fine. Knowing that a time would come, yet not sure of just when, I bravely set off for the market, a local Costco that I often hunt in to find hot dogs and tater tots. I heard from one of my friends that Costco was having a ketchup sale, so I decided to go.
Upon entering the store at first, everything seemed fine. I pulled out a shopping cart and pushed it into the food aisle while dropping every single item on the shelves in not caring what they were. It wasn’t until I was at the total opposite side of the restrooms that the pain hit me like a train. Stop looking at me like you don’t know what I’m referring to. It’s the “oops, I gotta go” pain. But this was different.
The habaneros in the chili from the night before were planning revenge. In a mad rush for freedom, they bullied their way through my intestines. Before I could take one step in the direction of the restrooms, they fired a shot. I stood alone in the aisle, eyes wide. I was afraid to move, frightened that the odor might escape to another aisle. I slowly moved up the next aisle just as an elderly woman turned her disgusted face to me. I watched as she walked into an invisible wall of odor losing all her senses. This made me laugh. When you laugh, it’s hard to keep things down. Another explosion came. It was so loud, it echoed down all the aisles. I gasped, fearing that someone would think it was someone firing a gun. I ran down all of the aisles to the nearest restroom.
As I walked out, an employee ran towards me.
“Ah sir, there has been a report of you setting an, um, stink bomb here,” the man said.
People were staring at me, which set me off again. I sprinted towards the exit sign and drove back home.
Home again, I grinned as I took a peek into the refrigerator and realized that there was nothing to eat but a leftover bowl of chili, so I consumed it. The day after that, I made a brave journey to Walmart. I can’t say anymore information about what had happened in Walmart because I am currently in court.