My story begins last evening when I picked up some Wendy's for dinner. I was in the mood for something spicy, but I didn't have time to wait for Thai-food takeout or to make something myself. So I ordered a chili with my value meal and asked for some of that "Spicy Chili Sauce" that you can add in for some extra flavor. The lady at the drive-thru was very nice and gave me like fifteen packets of the stuff. In retrospect, she must've known what this stuff can do in large doses, and is probably laughing at me right now.
A prelude: as I was driving away from the pick-up window, I farted real loud and it smelled pretty rank.
I got home with my craving for spicy food running high, so I immediately dig in to the chili, adding three packets of spicy sauce... not good enough. Two more... still needs to be spicier... Another two... OK. It was pretty damn hot.
Just for fun, I also put three or four packets on my burger. I couldn't really taste the burger, but I was fulfilling my need for spice. To top off the evening, I poured the remaining five packets onto my plate and dipped my fries in it. At this point, I couldn't really taste anything. Whew, that was a spicy meal, just how I wanted it...
I knew I was going to be in for a treat when I finally threw down brown after this meal, but I figured it would just be a nice solid log that might have a little sizzle when it slid through my balloon knot. I was DEAD WRONG.
The rest of that evening was actually a blast! I had the best farts a guy can ask for -- very hot and very thick-smelling. They were the type of farts that took a while before they actually reached your nose, and then lingered for many minutes after the initial fallout. I took off my pants later in the night because I knew that most of the fart plume was getting trapped in my jeans, and that's just not fair to the farts... but that's how thick they were. The smell was absolutely horrendous, and I was smiling from ear-to-ear.
Before I went to bed, as I had predicted, I gave birth to a nice, lush brown loaf that was greasy-hot on the outside and solid on the inside. I went to bed, dutch-ovened myself a few times, then fell asleep a like a happy little boy.
I woke up a broken and twisted man. My guts were churning and my poopchute was filled with what I thought was spicy hot air. I figured I would give it a whirl and try to get all the gas out of my Lincoln Log chamber so I could go under the covers to investigate my work. So I pushed...
The minute I hit the throttle I tried to pull back, but alas, I could not. I let out the most painful, searing hot ass burst I have ever experienced. My entire ass was flaming hot and I was sure that I just filled my boxers with a heaping bowl of trouser chili. The smell hit me immediately and I gagged. I stumbled to the bathroom, holding my boxers at the legs so I didn't leak any chili onto the carpet.
When I got to the bathroom and dropped my drawers, I was amazed that there were no Hershey's kisses waiting for me in the back of my boxers. I was confused. I did a quick wipe of my crevice and found that it was loaded with stink slime. Apparently my ass hair prevented the liquid feces from hitting my shorts. I knew those ass hairs were there for something... thanks, God.
Now I realized that I was in for a treat. My stomach started churning and my ass started gurgling out liquid magma. What I was experiencing here, friends, was the much debated Number 3. My ass was regurgitating. My ass was literally blowing chunks. My ass was hurling boiling chili dog sauce all over the porcelain. There's no way this could be considered taking a shit -- I was puking from my ass. This horrendous upchucking of ass vomit lasted for at least ten minutes before it seemed to subside. I started wiping and discovered that I had the most sensitive knot hole in the world. I had to just pat it dry. But then I realized that this was just the eye of the storm... another wave of violent ass puke hit me and my poor cornhole spit up for another ten minutes.
Finally, the whole ordeal was over, and I patted down my brown eye again and went back to bed. I was exhausted. I slept for almost four hours straight. My knot is still sore right now. My entire poopchute is still feeling sick, and I truly wish I could give myself an enema of Pepto-Bismol. It might sound weird, but I think that would help.
If anyone else is brave enough to try this, go to Wendy's and somehow creatively ingest 15 packets of their Spicy Chili Sauce. Then you, too, will be able to experience the elusive Number 3.
-- Matthew A.