Barbados Chile

I went grocery shopping recently at the Drive-In Grocery while not being altogether sure that course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented “Barbados Chili.” Tasty stuff, a bit hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat anything at all the next day both of your cheeks WILL fall off.

Here’s the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after a couple of sausages and biscuits mixed with the night before’s chili nothing happened. No ‘Watson’s Movement #2’. Despite habanera peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I appeared to be unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by mom as thunder and lightning.

Knowing that a time of reckoning had to come, yet not sure of just when, I bravely set off for the the store to buy some Imodium to try and head things off. Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I roamed the isles looking for anything that might work when that pain hit me. You know the one, that ‘Uh oh, gotta go’ pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different. The habaneras in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one step in the direction of the front door and a mad dash to the office for relief, the peppers fired a warning shot.

There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as some Spanish lady turned into it.

I don’t know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction would be to the poodious exscrutiatis that refused to dissipate, as she walked into it unsuspecting. Have you ever been torn in two different directions emotionally? I could’ve warned that poor woman but didn’t. I simply watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running, was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward off angry bees and cussing something in Spanish. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me laugh. Oohhhhh, baaad mooove!! As we all know, when you laugh, it’s hard to keep things ‘clamped down’. With each giggle an explosive issue burst forth from my darkest region.

Suddenly things were no longer funny. IT was coming, and I raced to the front of the store screaming, “gotta use your restroom . . . get out of the way” as I went, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I’d make it before the grand explosion took place.

Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the john, and it was bad. Al heard the screaming and came in to check on me in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of ‘Shock and Awe’. He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly said, ‘Sonofawitch!’, then quickly retreated to a safer distance.

Once finished I was leaving the restroom when Al returned and quizzed, “what the hell was that all about?” That of course set me off laughing again, causing residual gases to escape me. He took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointed for me to vacate the premises immediately.

Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I got run out of the bank. I can’t say anymore about that because we are still at odds over the whole matter. Sorry dogs claim I made the alarm go off. See you at . . . “RRRIIIIPPPP” (oh nooo, not again?!!) . . . Barbados !!

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