A Crawfish Soil
One time I was desperately trying to land a lucrative project and landed an interview with the president of an oil field company, who happened to be a woman. She invited me to the company’s weekly Friday crawfish boil. I spent two days preparing what I was going to say and, since it was a long drive, left the house that morning without my usual three cups of coffee and a dump.
When I arrived at the crawfish boil I was impressed. I figured that a successful woman would have her office done nicely, and hers was nice. Ever seen an office bathroom with real hand towels, a chandelier, and decorated in gold with red roses?
I get ahead of myself. First there was the boudin on the drive down, the presentation, more coffee, and then a plate of hot spicy crawfish.
All the while I'd forgotten about not going to the bathroom. I guess with everything going on, the urge just passed – that is until it was almost too late. While sitting with one of her employees going over their computer system, the urge suddenly rumbled deep inside. The employee went downstairs for something, and since I was alone for a couple minutes, I leaned to one side and let slip some of the gas that felt like it was about to blast out. I only let a little out when I felt a wetness, and then a smell hit me. Jeeesh! Talk about foul! I was scared the stink wouldn’t dissipate before she came back and had to take care of the situation quickly.
I pointed a small desktop fan toward the area as I hobbled off to the bathroom, trying to hold the load in so it didn't rush out down my leg. As soon as I locked the door I raced to pull my pants down before shitting in them. I barely had pushed them to my knees when it came forth with a mighty blast, one that could have easily been heard all over the office reception area. Hopefully, nobody was out there, but it didn't really matter if they were, because the smell was bad enough to curl the floral wallpaper. Even the fresh flowers in a vase by the sink wilted.
My eyes were burning, and I swear I could see fumes rising up. They were strong enough to permeate my clothing, so I had to finish fast and get out of there. I left the bathroom with the exhaust fan running, closed the door and went back to the desk. I pretended to study the computer screen as she came back in the room, but I couldn't help but notice that she stopped dead in her tracks when she approached the bathroom. She circled around the long way to avoid walking right past and sat back down. I was showing her something when after a few minutes she asked, "Did you see who went into the bathroom?"
I replied, "Some guy came up from the shop and used it while you were gone, but he left right away.”
She left to see the boss and they both returned after a few minutes. The owner peeked inside the bathroom carefully, like she was expecting to find a dead body on the floor. They muttered something between themselves, and within a few minutes a cleaning woman appeared and proceeded to scrub and disinfect the entire bathroom.