Back in high school, one day my stomach was rumbling so I excused myself and hit the men's room running...got the jeans and undies down in the nick of time before boom...explosive evacuation, no raptures here. After cleaning up I decided to drive home, so checked out at the office and got into my pickup truck (with a handy gun-rack of course) and began the 20 minute drive through country roads. About 10 minutes in that rumbling began again, in earnest. *growwwwl glug glug*

Squeezing cheeks i was only about halfway but it was obvious that I wouldn't make it another mile, so I pulled off the side of the road...no cars in sight but the realization hit me that there was no way I could move without opening the floodgates as it were. Mustering all of my strength and focusing it in my buttcheeks I began to hobble stifflegged off the side of the road toward an unsuspecting alfalfa field...didn't make it.

The warm flood of effluent spilled and soaked my jeans to the ground. At that point I recall just standing and wondering what to do, so I gingerly stepped back to my truck and wondered, how the hell am I going to sit down now? Fortunately I used to camp a lot, so I rummaged through the locking toolbox in the back and found a rain poncho, which I lovingly placed on the seat and floor.

The ride sucked, windows wide open in the heat but I finally made it home. Without a word I squished through the back door and straight into the shower, where I let the water flow and peeled everything off. The raincoat was retired of course....jeans, shoes and socks were salvaged as i washed them thoroughly in the shower.

So after all that...no, i didn't get off on it. =P