Fart Jokes

I’m trying to focus on the event inquiry events_start_date variable. Why isn’t it set here? What’s going on in the code that isn’t making me happy? As I squirm and frustrate my way through the code I gradually come to the realization that the code isn’t the culprit here. I’m unhappy for a much deeper reason. My bowels are about to explode.

The bathroom, I need to go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW.

I stand up, my bowels scream, lightly, literally, at me.

Shuttup I think. SHUT UP. The bathroom is right up there. Right up those winding flight of 16 stair steps; right around through the adjacent room; right through the next hallway; right into the bathroom.

So I walk calmly past my co-workers, trying to act casually, trying to focus on everything at once, and forgetting to keep my eyes from going nuts and looking in two different directions simultaneously. I silently spend another portion of my focus dearly hoping that my co-workers aren’t looking at my face right now, because my eyes are now cross-eyed.

Don’t worry about that now, Joshua. You can fix that when you get to the bathroom. Let your eyes do whatever they want. There is bigger game afoot.

I shamble clumsily up the stairs, around the corner, through the room, around the hallway, and into the bathroom.

I enter the stall and I sit.

Everything is just a matter of fecal matter, now.

I unload.

Nothing unloads.

There’s a problem?

Oh my god.

It’s him.

My arch-nemesis.

It’s explosive diarrea with a delay.

The delay is constipation.

It’s true. I hadn’t shat in a while. It’d been since Monday, it’s Thursday now. I usually am able to empty the ol gutters once a day at least, but this was a stretch, and it was stretching me emotionally and physically in ways that I’m not comfortable going into detail. Literally, not comfortable, because for this real-time story to make any sense, I’m currently sitting on the toilet in horrible pain and I’m not going to talk any more about my stretched poop containers atm. There are bigger fish to fry. I wish it was a smaller fish, though.

Enough.

I finally am able to gather the entirety of my focus onto this one mission. We’re going to do this. Just remember what Mr. O taught you in Physics. F=MA. Force is bad. Don’t force it. This is a fucking massive turd, so we need to accelerate SLOWLY.

I slowly ease on the gas.

I fart a little.

Slower, Joshua. Less gas.

Ouch.

OUCH. DEAR OUCHING OUCH LORD. PAIN AND MISERY AND WOE AND HATEFUL MUTTERINGS AND GNASHINGS OF TEETH AND THE FOUR HORSEMEN AND PLEASE OH PLEASE ALLOW A ROCK TO FALL ON ME AND CRUSH ME OH GOD AND OUCH OUCH OUCH.

Bad move Joshua. Bad move. Way too much gas. What is wrong with you.

Bad move….

“Bad… move..” I think to myself.

Bad……..

B O W E L MOVE

HAH A HAHAHAHA

I can’t contain my laughter. My body and bowels shake with hilarity. Oh fuck, this is it. HAHAHA WHY COULDN’T I JUST NOT LAUGH DEAR GOD

The shit flies out of my ass. It explosively inundates the toilet. I scream for relief but my gods have deserted me. I’m alone in hell and even Satan has evacuated until the fumigators clean house. Red and green mix into a mist of brown that covers the interiors of the toilet, but it’s not even apparent because of the brown chunks that are already completely filling the water.

I cry.

I explode.

My blood and body covers the bathroom and it will take a million years for the echos of my screams to leave this place.

Space janitors of the future will refuse to clean this bathroom because of the noises they hear at night, eminating from this very toilet.

There is no hope. All is lost. Burn yourselves at the stake. It’ll be hilarious.