I promised them the night before I'd take them to the pancake house so we got dressed and headed off. During breakfast my daughters asked me to tell them a story about myself growing up, my oldest said "You know those funny stories where something happens to you. They make us laugh."
Well I thought to myself "It's been a while since something funny happened to me." Ok, that was a big mistake. I guess that was God's cue to add another one into my hopper because when we got home, opened the garage door and proceeded to walk inside we couldn't. Walk inside that is, the door was locked. We keep the key in a small utility drawer in the garage so I went to retrieve it and it wasn't there? Then I remembered my wife saying last week "I lost the key to the garage."
At this point I said "Uh oh. No key." and my daughter started whining how she was going to miss the birthday party she was invited too later that day and how the presents were inside the house. I decided to use my cell phone and call a friend and realized I didn't have it. And like one of those bad dreams where no one is around to help you, all our neighbors were gone for the weekend. Great. I then noticed my second story window open and considered climbing up but the pitch of our roof is such that I knew it would quickly go from humorous to dangerous so I axed that out. I then asked my daughter if she wanted to try and she said "No way!"
My youngest daughter said "We could goto our friends down the street and call." I shook my head and said "Ok lets go." Well it's about this time that a particular aspect to this story kicks in which could not have come at a worse time. My bowels chime in and say "I need to take a crap. Now!"
I walked about four steps and said "I can't go, I think I have diarrhea?" and then proceeded to grimace and dance around like I was standing on a hot plate. I told my daughter "Hurry go tell your friend to call a locksmith." She took off on her scooter. My other daughter is now pointing at me and laughing "You dance funny." "I am not dancing!" I said a little too sharply.
About 2 minutes go by and my bowels speak up again "Sorry but we aren't waiting. Open flood gate 3!" Panic sets in instantly and I look towards a shelf in our garage that contains cleaning supplies and toilet paper and hop over rip open the pack and grab a roll. I then take off as fast as I can run without allowing my butt cheeks to seperate and yell back at my daughter "Stay in the garage I am going to the backyard. Do not follow me!"
I make it 3/4 of the way and then experience what I can only assume is the same feeling a Depends user has and realize I didn't make it. So now I am hunched over behind our porch in the backyard in shock thinking "I hope my wife is having fun at the coast." I am hunched because if I stand up all the way neighbors can see me. So I proceed to take care of business. (Who said camping doesn't come in handy)
I come back around to the front of the house successfully purged, undies and all buried in a shallow unmarked grave in our back yard flower bed and hoping my daughter was a success in calling for help. She was and about ten minutes later the locksmith showed up opened our door in about 20 seconds and I paid him $45.
So now my daughters have a fun story about their goofy dad they can laugh about from now and for the rest of their lives. Sometimes I wonder why crap like this happens? Pardon the pun.
UPDATE TO STORY
Since posted this side order of my life, we have moved to a new house. So the obvious question is "Did you dig up the shorts?" Well, no I left them buried in the backyard for the new home owner to discover some day when he's doing yard work. I figure by that time it'll just resemble a very large dirty rubber band. The undies part will be long gone by then. Why are you making a funny looking face?
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