A couple of years ago, at around about this time of year, I was nearly thrown out of a gas station bathroom for being a homeless junkie. I wasn't actually a homeless junkie. What I was instead was a man who had been demolitioning parts of his house, was covered in detritus from that, unshaven, in the midst of a mental downward spiral and suffering from some sort of vitriolic stomach ailment. In other words I was a scruffy man without a toilet having diarrhea in a Nice n Easy gas station bathroom.
Fast forward to today. Like an NCIS serial killer I returned to that very same bathroom and committed a very similar brown crime. Ten minutes earlier I was sat in my daughter's classroom at the start of her Halloween party. She had been sullen and seemingly frightened all morning but hadn't leaked anything suspect. Whilst wondering whether she could make it I was taken by surprise and found myself puking it up in my nicely clean toilet (thanks honey!) instead. So my daughter got to go to school and I figured that I'd bungle through and be fine. Except I wasn't. Five minutes in to the whole thing I felt the cold sweats and the metallic taste on my tongue. Crap. So I handed the keys off to my wife and walked out of the school. We live about a fifteen minute walk away. I can make that.
Then came the race. Not to get home - just to get off school property before puking all over the place. I made it to the giant Douglas Fir on the main road before I had to hide amongst them wretching up mucus. All those weird signs that talk about doubling the penalties for drug offences and whatnot near schools seemed very much to be about people who looked like I did - which was like a smack addict bent over double behind a bush trying to just get the fucking thing out so I can go home.
Not much of anything came out so I walked off quickly. Just in range of the gas station I got the cramps. Shit. Literally. I knew then that I would never make it home without earning a really bad nickname for myself in the local community. No way would I be known as Fudge Butt Buckley in this town (and just to clarify - that totally refers to someone else in the next town over). So I tried to look calm and happy in the gas station and headed into the bathroom. Yep - good job I stopped. But it was one of those ones where you know there are at least twelve chapters to this story so don't bother trying to end it at chapter five because you won't get very far before.......okay this analogy stopped working. I can't think of a good reading analogy that refers to needing to keep shitting.
Ten mintues later I think I'm done and a second knock on the bathroom door. Thank goodness that I chose yesterday to shave off my first attempt at this year's winter beard or the people in that gas station would have struggled to understand what the hell it is I am up to. I don't think they recognized me from those few years ago.
Might have recognized the smell though. I haven't eaten methane-soaked ham and scalloped potato for months so no idea why it formed that aroma. Time for a lie down.