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Hindsight Story Night #62

Like I said, he offered to pay.

My meal was an afterthought by the time I was getting dressed for track conditioning.

All I could do is hope, pray, and clench. While trapping gas and fighting off bowel movements, I did not say a word to anyone.

I sprinted like a gazelle evading the cheetah that was my butt hole.

I had shat myself and gotten away with it in what was my most self-conscious period: high school.

I was already considering quitting, so we might call that “the burrito that broke the camel’s bowels.”

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