Yesterday I mentioned that Mrs. B. and I went to the restaurant Bandera, then saw "Kick-Ass." Well this is the filthy continuation to that story. Feel free to share your own experiences in the comment section.
Near the end of the movie, Mrs. B. was coming down with a borderline migraine headache. It was not good. She enjoyed the movie, but by the end, she was spent because this headache was coming on strong. We left the theater quickly and got into my car. She reclined the seat and wanted the radio turned down. I felt bad for her, and yet I also was getting awfully bored by driving in silence.
So I lazily drove home at midnight, in silence, and we had gone to a movie theater that was a little farther away from our house than the one we usual go to, making this drive that much longer (read as: probably an extra six minutes.)
After a few minutes, I felt a little rumble in my stomach. I didn't feel any stomach cramps or even that a bathroom break would be somewhere in my near future. I thought to myself, "Hmmmmm... looks like a fart is coming- no big deal." So I flexed my stomach to let the fart come out, and low and behold- it felt like I crapped my pants a little.
"You gotta be kidding me," I said aloud.
"What's wrong?" Mrs. B. said quietly.
"I don't want to talk about it," I said in a slightly embarrassed tone.
To Mrs. B.'s credit, she is a mind reader. I'm certain she specializes in mostly just my mind, but it's possible she's a clairvoyant. Out of nowhere, she asked, "Did you shit your pants?"
I was stunned- how could she possibly know? I have never crapped my pants before and I couldn't smell anything (and I didn't think that it would be much even if it had happened.) Sheepishly replying like I was Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, I said, "Yeah, I think so..."
She just started laughing. I suppose slight relief for the headache was good, but laughing at my crapping my pants- pretty damn funny. At that very moment, we hit traffic. There was an accident three exits before ours, and it slowed traffic up quite a bit.
Just so we're clear on the situation- it's midnight, Mrs. B. has a migraine, I just think I crapped my pants, and we're in stop and go traffic just miles away from the freeway exit that we need to get off at. Only one word can describe this situation: shitty.
There is a happy ending though! Upon arriving home, Mrs. B. was able to go to sleep and her headache was gone in the morning. I went to the bathroom to check the damage, and I, in fact, did NOT crap my pants! It was a glorious win for me, my pants, my bowels, and possibly my car driver seat. And the moral of the story? I could probably crap my pants, and Mrs. B. would laugh it off and love me anyway- and that's a pretty great feeling.