I am a bad ass

Long have I been excessively and oddly proud of the pungent stench that my gastrointestinal system produces.

It gets bad, real bad. My wife will often slide a pack of matches under the bathroom door. "My God, what is wrong with you and is the marriage still valid?"

A while back, my daughter had a friend over. I blasted both of them out of the kitchen; the commode was two walls and a hallway removed. I started down the hallway after my award winning movement when I could see the girl in the hall mirror. She waved her hand under her nose and tried to fan away the toxins. "Oh! My God" she cried. "I can smell it, Oh my gosh, I think I am going to vomit."

Silently I listened down the hall and was filled with a tremendous sense of pride. The only way it could have gone better was if the teen queen had actually puked.

And then there was my fourth day on a new job.

The restroom that we machinist used could be considered frightening, or possibly unnerving. It was nasty. The kind of place that no woman would use, no matter the circumstance. However, we did have an assortment of cleaning supplies and paper products at the ready. That way, you could clean off a spot when the time comes. It was also not a very private restroom. If you sat on the commode and leaned down on your knees, looked to your right, you could see into the foreman's office.

I had been at the company for four days. The owner of the company, a multi-multi millionaire had come down to the shop to speak with the foreman. Along with the owner was our CEO, also a millionaire. The three of them were standing in front of the foreman's office.

That is when it hit me. I had been holding back unleashing my bowels at work. The hour was neigh. Let me tell you something, this was no ordinary fecal matter I was dealing with. It was the hot quasi-liquid, jalapeno hot sauce inspired, bring on a sweat kind of turd. As I said, the point of no return had been crossed. Like in Star Wars, when the Death Star fired off the big gun. Once the firing sequence had begun, a planet was going to get the shit blown out of it. There was no going back.

Many people may have been unnerved or embarrassed or intimated in this situation. Not the most relaxing scenario. I mean, one could be pinching the proverbial loaf while looking your new boss, the CEO and the owner square in the eye.

But not me. No sir! I am a bad ass. And it was just about time that these bastards found out just who in the fuck they were dealing with.

I made my way to the restroom, with slow, short and deliberate steps. I passed behind the back of the power trio of the shop. They were busy looking away from the restroom at a pallet for the moment. I approached the receptacle. I began to clean it with a paper towel and scouring powder. Then, No! I am too late? A crisis narrowly avoided as the Death Star that was my ass almost fired the main weapon before locking on target. But, I am a man of unusual bowel control. Three deep breaths and the cleaning began anew. At last the target was prepped and ready to receive.

I turned around to get into position for final approach. The three most important people at the plant were 15 feet away with their backs to me, in plain view. That is when I experienced one of the most remarkable bowel movements of my life. It occurred swiftly and fluidly. One sweeping motion of steady movement with now stops or hesitations.

I dropped trou and sharply moved into a squat. The moment my buttocks touched the seat, all hell erupted in the blink of an eye. My squat movement never came to a stop. I never stopped moving. It was like I did a repetition of a weight lifting squat. At the bottom of the movement there was no sitting, stopping or even a hitch in my motion.

Suddenly, I found myself standing with my hands still clasped to my belt. Quite frankly, I was confused. Could it be? Did that just happen? Then screaming trough my brain like a bull with its nuts on fire.

"Then we shall crush the rebellion with one swift stroke!"

The words of Grand Moff Tarkin from Star Wars rang through my head. I had indeed just crushed a rectal rebellion in one swift stroke.

I began to laugh. The only problem being was that I was standing over the commode with my pants down and my penis flapping in the breeze. The company power trio was still 15 feet away and looking in the opposite direction. As I began to "mop up", the smell hit. It stunned me. Over the smell of welding and a hundred other dirty industrial operations, it hit like a freight train. Now I was laughing, wiping my ass, looking at the power trio and holding my breath.

I finally got myself together. Slowly I washed my hands, letting the smell waft out into the plant. Still, the power trio were unaware of the horror that had occurred literally behind their backs. Did I walk back to my work? Nay! I strutted like a damn peacock.

From where I was working I could see them. I had not been working 30 seconds when I saw the stench hit. The CEO ducked and flailed his arms like a vampire bat had just grabbed his hair. The foreman shook his head like he had just plucked four nose hairs at the same time. The owner took three quick steps away from the restroom, as if he had just seen a snake.

I had to stick my head in a machine for ten minutes, pretending to clean it out, as I laughed my damn ass off.

Yeah, I am a bad ass.

Dirty Ert