An Unfortunate Mishap
The one and only chapter
Lactose intolerance. That small fault in my body that has caused me too much trouble to encapsulate in one simple story. Being fashionably late to the distribution of enzymes has mocked me my entire life especially during last year’s marching band season. My bowel movements simply could not handle the joy that is ice cream.
It was a drug for me for two months. Every Tuesday, four of us would make a pilgrimage to Stater Brothers for that precious drug to binge on before practice. I was like Anakin Skywalker and the Dark side of the Force, I knew it was a terrible yet amazing thing but alas, it could not be. I moderated my intake to a few spoonfuls to avoid a highway jam in my colon. But one day, the last straw was pulled.
“Hey you guys want double fudge brownie today?” Nick, why oh why, Nick? My brain flipped off all of its logic. Not only was this chocolate ice cream, it had brownies and double the fudge…and brownies. I was in. I ate that sucker as if Queen Amidala was in danger and her life depended on my consumption of processed milk products. This wasn’t for me, it was for her life. My taste buds were in heaven, thanking me for a long, happy life (or afterlife). It was pure gold, I ate and ate; it was so wrong yet so right.
Unfortunately, every fairy tale needs to come to a tragic end. As the first competition approached, my bowel movements ceased and my rear end became a ticking time bomb. For a week, my stomach growled in anticipation but what did little me do? That’s right, I dismissed it for hunger. Oh I was gullible. The ice cream seduced me one last time the day before the first competition. After the football game, the levee broke loose.
As I was changing out of uniform in the band room, I felt the treacherous sin knocking on hell’s gates. I passed it off as only gas since I had been a bit gassy that day, but nay. Luke Skywalker exploded the Death Star. Being in band and changing out of uniform in front of everyone, everyone knows everyone’s smells. Not this one; it was a merciless mystery.
To describe the smell is to describe the odor protruding from a garbage can after an especially hot day in Tatooine. It was a stench; an insult to what once was ice cream. As I moved away, turning as to check my back side, it became clear that I had just bombed the room.
“Oh, dude!!! David, when was the last time you showered?!” I hollered at the smelliest teenager alive as I tied my jacket around my waist before anyone could spot the Rorschach test imprinted on my tiny kabus.
Success was all I can say happened. The shart was blamed on David’s lack of hygiene and I was able to walk away from the explosion. Like a boss.
It was a drug for me for two months. Every Tuesday, four of us would make a pilgrimage to Stater Brothers for that precious drug to binge on before practice. I was like Anakin Skywalker and the Dark side of the Force, I knew it was a terrible yet amazing thing but alas, it could not be. I moderated my intake to a few spoonfuls to avoid a highway jam in my colon. But one day, the last straw was pulled.
“Hey you guys want double fudge brownie today?” Nick, why oh why, Nick? My brain flipped off all of its logic. Not only was this chocolate ice cream, it had brownies and double the fudge…and brownies. I was in. I ate that sucker as if Queen Amidala was in danger and her life depended on my consumption of processed milk products. This wasn’t for me, it was for her life. My taste buds were in heaven, thanking me for a long, happy life (or afterlife). It was pure gold, I ate and ate; it was so wrong yet so right.
Unfortunately, every fairy tale needs to come to a tragic end. As the first competition approached, my bowel movements ceased and my rear end became a ticking time bomb. For a week, my stomach growled in anticipation but what did little me do? That’s right, I dismissed it for hunger. Oh I was gullible. The ice cream seduced me one last time the day before the first competition. After the football game, the levee broke loose.
As I was changing out of uniform in the band room, I felt the treacherous sin knocking on hell’s gates. I passed it off as only gas since I had been a bit gassy that day, but nay. Luke Skywalker exploded the Death Star. Being in band and changing out of uniform in front of everyone, everyone knows everyone’s smells. Not this one; it was a merciless mystery.
To describe the smell is to describe the odor protruding from a garbage can after an especially hot day in Tatooine. It was a stench; an insult to what once was ice cream. As I moved away, turning as to check my back side, it became clear that I had just bombed the room.
“Oh, dude!!! David, when was the last time you showered?!” I hollered at the smelliest teenager alive as I tied my jacket around my waist before anyone could spot the Rorschach test imprinted on my tiny kabus.
Success was all I can say happened. The shart was blamed on David’s lack of hygiene and I was able to walk away from the explosion. Like a boss.
♠ ♠ ♠
I entered and won an embarrassing story scholarship contest with this story two years ago...that was cool.