An unforgettable day
There are some experiences that are so exhilarating, yet few have the charisma to talk about, much less write. However, I don’t have that much charisma yet I narrate…
The day was just like any other day at the public library, nothing out of the ordinary. I was just getting into the reading when I felt a tummy rumble. It was a warning. It sounded like faraway thunder.
I looked up and around, alarmed and hoping no one had noticed the cataclysmic sound emanating from my gut. Luckily, no one noticed. I proceeded to read another page when suddenly, the rumble tumbled across my innards and settled somewhere lower, at a somewhat threatening position that would, if not properly contained constitute a smelly disgrace.
Needing no further prompting I pick up my books and dashed out – yet not fast enough get out before a silent gassy fart escaped to stupefy the unsuspecting readers with its horrendous smell. Thank goodness for the good ventilation they wouldn’t suffer for long. I got to where I had dropped my bag, picked it up from the untidy heap and put my books in it, signed out and headed home.
Going home under the circumstances wasn’t a bad idea – it was a terrible one because I had to take three hackney cab rides with the possibility of heavy traffic; a luxury I couldn’t afford not because of the cost, but the time involved and the now churning feeling in my bowels that kept settling lower and lower, claiming its right on peristaltic movements, gravity and the now evil nature’s call. This bugger in my guts wanted out, and now! Option A, catch a cab, option B flag a bike … not considering if there were possibilities of better options I went with option B. And yes, I went with the “Okada”. Gave the “Okada man” the descriptions and away we went, with him probably feeling fortunate about the bargain – that I could care less about right now. With the wind in my face, my bag on my back I concentrated on the “long trip” ahead which most orthodox time telling devices must have recorded as the shortest time in history I had travelled the same distance. I “care not” now for clocks and figures . Another fart. It’s getting closer. I relayed my impatience to the bike rider. I need to be home already!
As we breezed up and down slopes, in between cars and buses caught in pockets of heavy traffic, the wind in my face still did little to prevent the cold sweat that was already forming on my brow. Every slight bump in the road threatened to spill my mushy gut content . It took a bit of willpower not to utter aloud the “AARGH” for every slight bump and trust me this road didn’t just have a few bumps. I sporadically interrupted my frenzied prayer that I kept muttering silently “Lord Have Mercy… Lord Have Mercy… Lord Have Mercy” with “thank God… it’s still in” or some subdued exclamation e.g. “Umph”, “Oof”, “Argh”.
Finally after a seeming painful eternity during which time I had utilized both will power, supernatural power and some emergency potty training tactics I never knew I possessed, I arrived home. I tried to pay nicely but couldn’t and ran off before I could collect my balance. In a frenzied dash to the convenience, I saw my brother and asked... no begged him to please help me go collect my “change” from the man at the gate. He was slightly amused.
And ah, the relief as I recall it. Never had the convenience felt so convenient. The threat was unleashed and it roared out of my bowels in a gush of embarrassing yet soothing sounds. Then It was over. And now I felt great. I felt like singing because I felt relieved. And A song came to my mind instantly. It was A popular Micheal Jackson hit. The original lyrics were:
“Speechless… speechless that’s how you make me feel…”
But my own version came out soundling like:
“Shitless.. shitless that’s how you make me feel…”
The day was just like any other day at the public library, nothing out of the ordinary. I was just getting into the reading when I felt a tummy rumble. It was a warning. It sounded like faraway thunder.
I looked up and around, alarmed and hoping no one had noticed the cataclysmic sound emanating from my gut. Luckily, no one noticed. I proceeded to read another page when suddenly, the rumble tumbled across my innards and settled somewhere lower, at a somewhat threatening position that would, if not properly contained constitute a smelly disgrace.
Needing no further prompting I pick up my books and dashed out – yet not fast enough get out before a silent gassy fart escaped to stupefy the unsuspecting readers with its horrendous smell. Thank goodness for the good ventilation they wouldn’t suffer for long. I got to where I had dropped my bag, picked it up from the untidy heap and put my books in it, signed out and headed home.
Going home under the circumstances wasn’t a bad idea – it was a terrible one because I had to take three hackney cab rides with the possibility of heavy traffic; a luxury I couldn’t afford not because of the cost, but the time involved and the now churning feeling in my bowels that kept settling lower and lower, claiming its right on peristaltic movements, gravity and the now evil nature’s call. This bugger in my guts wanted out, and now! Option A, catch a cab, option B flag a bike … not considering if there were possibilities of better options I went with option B. And yes, I went with the “Okada”. Gave the “Okada man” the descriptions and away we went, with him probably feeling fortunate about the bargain – that I could care less about right now. With the wind in my face, my bag on my back I concentrated on the “long trip” ahead which most orthodox time telling devices must have recorded as the shortest time in history I had travelled the same distance. I “care not” now for clocks and figures . Another fart. It’s getting closer. I relayed my impatience to the bike rider. I need to be home already!
As we breezed up and down slopes, in between cars and buses caught in pockets of heavy traffic, the wind in my face still did little to prevent the cold sweat that was already forming on my brow. Every slight bump in the road threatened to spill my mushy gut content . It took a bit of willpower not to utter aloud the “AARGH” for every slight bump and trust me this road didn’t just have a few bumps. I sporadically interrupted my frenzied prayer that I kept muttering silently “Lord Have Mercy… Lord Have Mercy… Lord Have Mercy” with “thank God… it’s still in” or some subdued exclamation e.g. “Umph”, “Oof”, “Argh”.
Finally after a seeming painful eternity during which time I had utilized both will power, supernatural power and some emergency potty training tactics I never knew I possessed, I arrived home. I tried to pay nicely but couldn’t and ran off before I could collect my balance. In a frenzied dash to the convenience, I saw my brother and asked... no begged him to please help me go collect my “change” from the man at the gate. He was slightly amused.
And ah, the relief as I recall it. Never had the convenience felt so convenient. The threat was unleashed and it roared out of my bowels in a gush of embarrassing yet soothing sounds. Then It was over. And now I felt great. I felt like singing because I felt relieved. And A song came to my mind instantly. It was A popular Micheal Jackson hit. The original lyrics were:
“Speechless… speechless that’s how you make me feel…”
But my own version came out soundling like:
“Shitless.. shitless that’s how you make me feel…”
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