Shaming The Shameful
I made a trek on over to J.C. Penney the other day. Not my usual place to hang out, but the girlfriend had bared her fangs and said that we we're going. I don't argue with a woman on a mission. For those of you who have accompanied a significant other on their shopping sprees, I don't have to tell you what a boring and painful experience it is. I'd rather have my fingernails pried off with a butter knife. What I won't endure to get me some!
Anyways, after about an hour of looking at the exquisite fall fashions and overpriced housewares, I was about to jam a fork in my ass, 'cuz I was done! That's when I was saved by my truest of friends: my bowels. Yep, I had to drop a mean load -- which meant I could get away, for at least a little while, from the excitement of a whites sale.
"Honey, I have to drop a parcel. I'll be back," I said to my disinterested girlfriend. I ventured through the layaway department, found my sanctuary, quickly went in and identified my throne of choice. Thankfully, the facilities were somewhat clean and pleasant. I dropped trou and let loose my vengeance on the cursed department store.
It was a sloppy departure, requiring lots of grunts and groans to push the ass mud out. That's when I noticed I had a comrade in the stall next to me. Being the Shameless Shitter that I am, I decided to ham it up and let out my battle cries and other sounds of excruciating pain -- just for my audience's amusement.
I heard a muffled cough from the other stall. Obviously a Shameful Shitter. Great! My mission was to liberate this poor bastard from his Shameful shackles, or just make him feel extremely uncomfortable.
After I had finished with my symphony of bowl destruction, I heard my neighbor start to unravel some TP. I did likewise. He heard me and stopped, so I stopped. He started, I started; he stopped, I stopped. This went on for about five minutes. He obviously did not want us to leave the stalls at the same time -- typical behavior for a Shameful Shitter.
My ass was growing numb as a thumb whacked with a sledgehammer, so I decided to finish up. I flushed, exited the stall and proceeded to wash my hands.
Well, since I was bored and wanted to have some fun, I decided to toy around with Mr. Shameful.
"How's it going in there?" I said out loud. No reply.
"You almost done in there, slick?" I said with an expression of glee.
"Uh... yeah." he said. Finally! A reply! I had him now.
"You should have seen the gruesome display I just unleashed! I'm barely alive!" I said, snickering.
"Don't spend too long in there, or you might flame up your 'roids," I said.
"Um... OK," was the response.
It was time to let the poor bastard finish his duty. I left, saying, "Ok, I'll see ya," as I exited the bathroom.
When I got into the layaway section (right outside of the crapper) I decided I needed to see whom I had been sharing a brown moment with. I sat on the bench and waited. After about a minute or so, he emerged.
I said to him, "Everything come out OK?" He said, "that was you?!" in a surprised tone. "Yep. Why? You expecting Dom Deluise?"
"I thought you were my boss!" he shrieked. Obviously, we had a fine young JC Penney's employee on our hands. "I thought I was getting busted on for spending too much time in the can," he said, relieved.
"Well, rest easy, it was just me. And by the way, any boss that grumbles over long bathroom visits should be shot."
"Yeah," he said. "They're really cracking down on that here."
After our exchange of words we had a good laugh over the situation, and he was pretty cool about it. I explained that I was bored waiting for my girlfriend. I told him to never put his bowels in jeopardy over some overbearing superior -- it's just not right. He told me I was a little loopy.
I found my girlfriend and demanded (well, more like asked politely) to leave. But at least the trip wasn't a total loss.
So there you have it. I, Ass Phlegm, have taken a step in the Liberation of the Shameful. I encourage all of you to do the same. Did I mention that I stuck a PoopReort bumper sticker on the inside of the stall? Hopefully, others will be liberated and thus drawn to our fine site! (Yes, I am such a loser that I carry around PoopReport bumper stickers.)
-- Ass Phlegm
Editor's Note: I think those stickers make Ass Phlegm cool.