Shit Happens (And Then You Die)

Man.

I really gotta go.

Bad.

Stuck out here on the Lake Trails, blazing July, a couple of miles back my car bakes, no way I can make it back in time.

So I ponder my options. Which doesn't take long. Keep moving until you locate that special patch of earth, off in the shadows, hidden, and hopefully adequately foliated with large soft leaves of the non-itchy variety. Ah the abdomen pinches once more and my pace quickens.

Keep moving. Don't panic. This too will pass.

Ha! But this is NO time for jokes you dumbass... only a fool would be laughing now.

Ha! Ha!

So I'm a fool. So what?!

Ahhhh!...

The sun radiates. The grass crackles. The stomach cramps. Upon the horizon, where the paved path bends away from bleached sky, a watery mirage flickers. For a moment I consider the idea of drowning in concrete. Preposterous perhaps but no so unpleasant given the circumstances.

And there, up ahead a ways, off that paved path and under a little clump of scrub oaks, sits the stuffy plastic box with flies bouncing inside of it, no mirage but burning plastic, and oh boy how it does smell, Holy Canoli! but nonetheless its existence slings an arrow of relief to my bowels.

Damn the stink! Let me in there!


Meanwhile,

Larry McAllister has had one long sweaty day. Pumping crap in hundred degree heat has a way of draining you. You start to drag your feet, daydream, cut corners, skip proper scum-removal protocol.

He paws at the clipboard, its papers soiled by his own sweaty fingers. The last order of the day states Pick up Unit #313 - Location south corner of Lake Trails - Bring in for repair. Simple. But Larry is tired. No one in their right mind could possibly be out here anyway at this time of day, and if anybody IS in there, then they're obviously dead, and Larry will let the boys back at the plant deal with that possibility. So he backs the truck up to Unit #313 without much thought. He's thinking Miller Time baby.


Oh shit! What's that truck doing out here? And it's getting closer. Damn. Sounds like it's right outside the door. Now somebody's getting out... don't move. Don't breathe. This is embarrassing.
What's that noise? Why, it sounds like a chain. Why would somebody need a chain way out here? I'm starting to get pissed. Can't a guy take a sweaty dump in peace? Please... leave me alone I must say! Please!..


Larry McAllister attaches the chain in accordance with the company's regulations and hops back inside the truck. Presses a lever and the hoist begins to move. Up up the plastic box goes and Larry is inside the truck cabin, air conditioner blasting and radio blaring, and of course there is no way he could ever hear the cries that rattle from within.

Soon enough the porta-potty is lowered into the back of the truck, and the automatic latch secures it in place, and Larry throws her into first.


Meanwhile,

Here comes William Bone III, driving his white Lexus down the boulevard, whiter than the clouds of heaven, whiter than the wings of angels, pure and untainted, and just washed that very morning. It sports a "Good Happens" bumper sticker across the shiny fender, because William Bone III is an optimist, a believer, and a reader of the scriptures on a daily basis while avoiding all those who don't. So of course "Good Happens", especially when you steer clear of all those bad folk, the malcontents, the wayward and socially-challenged, and to bloody hell with anybody who doesn't concur.

But what's this? That truck up ahead... there is something happening inside that porta-potty. Oh my God. It's shaking violently, wobbling, about to EXPLODE, and finally the door bursts open and that's a man that comes flying out into the bed of the truck. Good Lord! But oh no, that plastic box has become unsecured, the latch broken, and now the thing is toppling over onto its side.


Meanwhile,

Up above the clouds of heaven (which really aren't that white after all, more off-white if you ask me), floating on that eternal river of time, an omnipotent being watches all that brown stinky scum splashing out and onto the approaching white Lexus, SPLAT, and smiles. William Bones III screams to the heavens and that omnipotent being whispers back to our good William "shhhh.... it really does happen."