That’s no lie. I even kept a bucket in my office today as a result, and came damn close to using it once or twice. Fortunately, high-paid executives like yours truly always have a private restroom, so I didn’t have to resort to such extremes.
Unfortunately, my Hummer comes equipped with no such luxury, which meant I was forced to pull over and make a mad dash for the bushes when my bowels started quivering on the interstate during my homeward commute. I didn’t quite make it, and found myself squatting with no cover as liquid shit spewed from my trembling ass.
“You sick bastard!” someone shouted from a passing car. Not a second later, something pointy bounced off my head. I turned slightly and saw it was a crushed can of Old Milwaukee.
“You’re going to hell for that!” screamed a presumably ugly woman, just as a trucker blew his air horn. Talk about embarrassing.
After an eternity, the geyser ended. I semi-wiped with a filthy, rain-soaked Penny Saver lying nearby, then got back in my Hummer. I made it home without further incident, but believe me when I say I’ve learned my lesson: no more raw bacon in the morning. No sir. No matter how good it tastes.