I might just be the luckiest bastard around. And after my account of my visit to the neighborood Shell station I'm sure you will all agree.

But first I should catch you all up. I am no longer employed at the whack shack. Sad but true. In my own defense however, once you get held up at gunpoint for 109 bucks you quite possibly might have an epiphany. Mine was "I won't live it down if I die in a place where people constantly fire off knuckle children and expect me to clean it up". So I promptly quit and got a job at a hotel as a desk clerk. Try shooting boy butter here and I'm calling the Po-leece.

Since my roommate Rodney and I don't have transportation, and there is no bus service in this town, I rely on my legs to take me to work. So you won't hear me bitching about gas prices.

Instead, I offer you this:

I work Monday's and Wednesday's from 3:00pm to 11:00pm (the remainder of my schedule being graveyard shifts). Now Rodney's dad is the only one with a car and he works Monday through Friday from 6:00am to 3:00pm. So I only have to walk to work twice a week which isn't usually so bad. It's a little over 2 miles, and I leave early enough to afford myself a gingerly pace. (I know, I had to look gingerly up too. In this case it means slow but not in a retarded way). So today proved no exception. It's important to note that north Texas has been under a heat wave the last few weeks with temperatures at or over "a cool 37 degrees Celsius". My walk usually takes me about 45 to 50 minutes, so I left the house at 2:00pm. I had been up a couple of hours prior, and for some reason I totally forgot the cardinal rule: Always drop a duece before a long walk. To quote Robert Plant, "It's nobody's fault but mine".

About 25 minutes into my journey the stomach pangs were almost unbearable. As fortune would have it, an older gentleman pulled over to the side of the road and offered me a lift. That should have been the first warning I heeded. Fortune can be a fickle little whore. I thanked him and told him I was just heading up to the next intersection. He dropped me off and I hurried over to the Exxon station next to the hotel to use the restroom. My sojourn there was most certainly unpleasant.

I entered and asked the store clerk if I could use the restroom without hesitation. He threw me a key on a chain and advised me that the restroom was outside near the car wash. Another red flag. But time was of the essence, and I am not a fan of shitting myself in front of people.
As the key attempted to turn the lock on the men's restroom door, I was at what can only be described as maximum density. A couple of failed tries later convinced me that the store clerk had given me the wrong key. Quickly I scanned the parking lot for any "witnesses" and tried the key on the women's restroom door. Success.

Only Foreigner know's how urgent my situation was. I closed the door behind me and rushed toward the crapper. The eruption that ensued rivaled that of Vesuvius. After the initial shock had passed, I become eerily aware of my surroundings. I had always imagined that the women's restroom was the antitheses of the men's restroom. This was not the case. (In all fairness, the store clerk could have been giving everyone the key for the female's restroom. Result accuracy is + or - 97%).

I found myself awake in a 115 degree sweatbox of urine, feces, and desperation. After a series of aftershocks (felt as far as Fort Worth), I began to scan my surroundings for toilet paper. No shit tickets as far as the eye could see. "There must be some paper towels" I thought to myself. "No" replied Fortune. Not wanting to ruin a decent pair of Hanes His Way boxer briefs, I starting to brainstorm. I started to think outside of the box so to speak.

My skinny white ass planted itself firmly in the sink of that shithole and cleansed itself with sweet, sweet water (most likely just runoff from the carwash). The most difficult part of clean up was angling my ass under the hot air dryer. I emerged from the restroom sweaty, but victorious. I returned the key, bought a fountain drink, and continued on my way to work. And my Hanes are still intact.