This one, despite it’s nastiness, is probably the story I get asked to retell the most, so it seems appropriate to do so now. You’ll either love it…….or vomit. 🙂

So you know those moments in life, when you feel like you are about to shit your pants, and you’re not anywhere near a friendly toilet? I’ll preface this story by saying this. I’m kind of a “shitting snob”. I have a ranking system of places I prefer to drop a deuce.

Home>Office (closed)>Family Member’s House>Friend’s House>Hospital (low traffic location)>Nice Restaurant(non-peak hours)>Convenience Store>Outside>EZ-Mart.

If not for my office being located between the main eating district of my town and my house, this story would have much less meaning, as I would have crapped my pants multiple times.

So here we go, the Manwich story. On multiple occasions, I’d be driving home, when my stomach would flip and I’d know the countdown has begun. I often get very spiritual during times like this, praying things like “Oh God, please don’t let me shit my pants, I’m a grown man.” After one particular instance, I narrowly escaped disaster. I run with my knees closed, made it inside and began unloading my bowels before I even sat down……literally shitting with my ass not even on the commode. I thought to myself, “You can’t get any closer to shitting your pants than that.”

I discovered later, that yes, in fact you can.

Same story, different verse. I’m hauling ass trying to make it to the office. My stomach is cramping and my butt hole is resembling someone saying “Wow Wow Wow” over and over again. Every bump in the car hurts, and I realize that I don’t think I’m going to make it. I get out of the car and race toward the office door……and then I feel it. Dear God, I’m crapping my fucking pants.

I scurry inside, drop my pants and begin to release whatever else vile mass I have left. I’m literally sweating. So I gather myself, and think “OK, let’s access the damage”. I lean forward and look down to see what my boxers contain. NOTHING.

WTF?

I’m puzzled, my mind races trying to dissect the situation. Did I just fart? No, I know what a fart is, and I know what taking a crap feels like, that was not a fart. Where did it go? Is it outside somewhere? No, there isn’t anything on my legs either. How do you shit your pants without shitting your pants.

When I began to wipe my ass is when I figured it out. It took me over half a roll of toilet paper to discard of the fecal mess still on my ass. It went from the sack of my balls literally up the crack of my ass. Hence why we call this the Manwich story, as if you’d turned me on my side, I’m sure I would have looked like a Manwich sloppy joe.