Now, back to the vomit... While all the ****ting was
going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the
time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth
had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni
and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the
human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends
over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the
toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me
placing my head above my now slightly opened legs,
positioned in between my knees and waist. Also
directly above my pants which were now pulled down to
a point just midway between my knees and my ankles.
Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants,
but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles?
In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and
beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat
Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the
inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my
In the next several seconds, there were a handful of
farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I
was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my
back covered in **** that had bounced off the toilet,
spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of
about five feet, and still had enough force to come
back at me, covering the back of my shirt with
droplets of liquid ****. All while thick **** was
spread all over my *** in a ring curiously in the
shape of a toilet seat.
And there was no ****ing toilet paper.
What could I do but laugh? I must have sounded like a
complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the
bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was
laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying
hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if
he would get the manager. And told him to have the
manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager
walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but
in no way was prepared for what happened next. I
simply told him that there was no way I was going to
explain what was happening in the stall, but that I
needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask
my wife to come help me. I told him where we were
sitting and he left.
At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I
had pissed just a bit in my pants or something
About two minutes later, my wife came into the
bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain
amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her
(still laughing and having trouble getting out words)
that I had a slight accident and needed her help.
Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the
past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a
small turd or something and just needed to being the
car around so we could bolt immediately.
Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she
was about to go across the street and purchase me new
underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by
that time due to considerable leakage around the
elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers.