There was only one $2-4 Omaha table at Niagara last weekend, and there was a long-assed wait for it too, so I was biding my time at one of the NL Hold-'em tables, waiting for my name to be called. I was doing pretty well, making a little and folding a lot. After an hour of playing I felt the first stirrings of bowel discontent, but I really didn't want to quit in the middle of a hand -- not after folding eight in a row.

After another half-hour, my name was up. I grabbed up my chips and escorted them to the Omaha table.

Wasn't there for twenty minutes when the bottom dropped and I really had to go. It was serious: my butt-bags were fully packed and ready to storm out the door. But I was damned if I was gonna wait another hour or two for a spot at my favorite table, having driven hours to get there to actually make some money. So I did the usual: squirmed, clenched, squeezed. My anal sphincter was at Maximum Pucker Factor.

Maybe a little gas leakage would release the pressure? I carefully squeezed out a little tootelage... no leakage, no problem.

Folded three more hands and then hit a nice one: K-Q-Q-10, 2 suited. So I raised before the flop and was happy to see seven callers. Flop comes A-Q-7, with the A and 7 matching my K-Q in hearts. So I raised the first bidder and was re-raised and raised again, with five callers following along. By then I was seriously cramping and needed some rear relief in the worst way, so I tried to squeeze out another mini-toot. But my innards would not be denied this time. A nice merde marble hitched a ride out with my fart and squished into my undershorts.

I squirmed uneasily as the stench started reaching the players around me, and then Fourth Street came: another Ace. Well, that was good news -- and bad news, of course, since I had the boat but there were two possible yachts out there that could sink her. So everyone checked, and I could see that everyone was in the same boat, so to speak.

I was afraid to fart again after what had happened, but no way was I ditching this pot. So I stood up and paced around the chair, everyone at the table laughing and joking at my expense and waiting for the explosion that appeared imminent. Believe me, they knew I had a good hand and they were taking their sweet time in betting while I danced in agony.

River card came -- a Queen! Everyone laughed, since they knew it was likely that there were two Aces and four Kings out there and there would be a battle of the boats that would make it a nice, fat pot. So I sucked it in and meekly checked. Predictably, everyone bet and raised to the max, and when it came back to me the pot was huge, and so was mine.

I put on a great act, grabbing my tummy and bending over with cramps and moaning about how I was gonna explode and should I throw more money away into the pit or just fold and rush to the restroom before I died right there? They enjoyed that immensely -- but they were even more shocked when I said, "Fuck it -- I already lost my cash here, might as well throw the rest away before I explode." So I called, and the two after me quickly called as well.

They stopped laughing as I showed my Quad Queens, scooped up all the chips, and RAN to the restroom, letting out three more pooplets on the way. It was a mini mess and I had no change of underwear. But it was worth it!

-- Cheese Whiz