Eta Eng. e Lekha, Caile Banglay Korte Pari, But Mone Hoy Tomra Eng. Te O Comfortable..:)
Weeknights in my home generally consist of watching television with my husband, and are always uneventful. This particular night I was in front of the television indulging myself in a precious bag of chocolate covered caramels that were given to me as a gift.
In the midst of my ritual of mindless weeknight television watching, I ran to the bathroom to pee. Like most nights of television watching, it was also uneventful. I did my business and was done in short order. However, upon looking into the toilet -- as I always do, regardless of what I am there for -- I discovered something which horrified and intrigued me. There, toward the back of the toilet seat where my ass crack had just sat, was a massive smearing of fresh, steamy shit.
My first reaction was to yell to my husband, "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?!" Of course it HAD to be HIS crap on the toilet, because it couldn't possibly be mine. By that time, he was upstairs on a conference call, so he didn't hear me yelling at him in shock and disgust. But it was as if God himself heard me and decided to make an even bigger joke of the moment, because I just happened to itch my ass crack at that time, and I looked at my hand to find that it was also covered in shit.
How could the mysterious feces be coming from me? OH, THE HORROR!
I thought long and hard about it. Was it possible that I crapped my pants without knowing it? Perhaps it was a combination of the black-bean-and-corn mixture from Chipotle, and simultaneously losing feeling below my waist in some kind of sick karmic joke? After all, I probably deserved it for one reason or another.
After moments of horrific contemplation, I finally deduced the real culprit of the elusive dung. The epiphany only came after the unfortunate act of me placing my crap-covered fingers to my nose to discover that the shit didn't smell like shit at all.
Earlier that evening, whilst eating my coveted chocolate-covered caramels in front of the television, one must have fallen right into my crack and melted there. Sure enough, upon further investigation, I found that the caramel center intact, nestled in my asscrack. The rest of the chocolate was all over my ass and underwear and the toilet.
As if this is not enough to make this story one of my most memorable on record, it was not over.
I was so amused by this whole thing that I had to call and tell someone. What good is a story about shit if you can't share it? So I called my sister and was telling her my fantastic story. My husband finally comes downstairs and hears me in my wild laughter and breaks in, saying, "I thought you noticed that I threw that down the back of your pants!?!"
UM, NO, I didn't notice that you threw a piece of chocolate down my freaking pants, jerk.
It's funny how quickly this amusing incident turned into the source of a grudge. As a result, I've been plotting my revenge ever since; but I do not have the mental fortitude to come up with something that could even compare to his dumb ass, unbeknownst to me, throwing chocolate down my pants. If I meet this challenge with any success I will let you know.
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