SMELLS WORSE THAN ROTTEN SALMON!
Fishing Poopapalooza and the Anus of Doom
The old lady bait-blesser wouldn’t stop praying!
My husband agreed to go fishing with Dad
This worried me. I pulled Dad aside and gave him a little talk about safety.
“Dad! You can’t mess around! I love him, and he’s my life. You be careful!”
Dad said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Lighten up! I’m not gonna kill your husband!”
Dad takes his aluminum boat out at Buoy 10 in Astoria
The mouth of the mighty Columbia travels westward and dumps into the Pacific Ocean. The Columbia is wide, and the ocean is strong. When the two meet, it can be a battlefield. Storms roll in, and waves get high. Fishermen drown when boats capsize. Yet, this the Pacific Northwest, and we all eat salmon. We must fish!
Fishing wasn’t the highlight of this trip though.
My menfolk arrived at Astoria, Oregon
The hubs and Dad got the RV parked in the campground and Hub’s stomach went south. Probably stress and fear. Perhaps they ate chili dogs or bean tacos, or fried spam sandwiches with greasy mayonnaise.
Suddenly, the hubs was in agony.
Cramps gripped his entrails and the worried hubs began hot-tailing it to the outhouse. It was a race against time.
He needed to shit, right now!
What could be worse than gripping stomach cramps and the feeling of impending doom?
The bait-blesser. He ran into the bait-blesser!
The bait-blesser lady was a talker
This woman blessed the fishermen’s bait so they’d catch the biggest salmon on the river. Bait goes on a hook. Spinners, worms, little fish, marshmallows, whatever. She blessed it all.
She was one of those gray-haired ladies who yammered on and shut her eyes to pray. She meandered around the park, looking for men to bless. The hubs saw her coming.
It was like seeing a Death Angel, or one of those old ladies who hangs out at Trump rallies.
She wore an old hat with a green sequin fish riding on top.
She wore a copper bracelet for arthritis.
She had false teeth she’d push in with her gums, then smile. She loved to talk, talk, talk! All the time in the world!
As the bait-blesser explained her method of blessing, the hubs felt the explosion building up in his colon
With the surging strength of flood waters breaching a weak dike, he needed a toilet and he needed it now.
32 ounces of dark doom amassed on the inner sanctum of his colon. The minions of chili and onions waited to storm the gate, but they wouldn’t wait long. Oh, no!
Unleash the brown hotdog hounds of hell!
But hubs is courteous, and nods and listens.
She-who-blesses lowered her head and began talking to her higher power, Dear Lord of all, great high power in almighty wisdom, keeper of the fish, and guardian of the seas, see this humble fisherman who longs to pull a fish from the ocean of the mighty Pacific, a fish that has traveled from afar…
His lower intestines began communicating with him in great intensity
He interrupted her — finally! — excused himself and started scooting along, clenching his buttocks and trying to keep his sphincter tight.
Kind of like when your dog has a dingleberry and is running from it.
Hubs prayed the torrential shit waters would stay put! Skirting a sunny meadow, he suddenly realized he was powerless.
The dam broke
He got behind a tree and yanked his britches down, aiming the offending blowhole behind a pine tree. An eruption of magnitude 10 screamed out of his nether regions, complete with sound effects that caught the attention of a few children.
They ran. Fast and far, they ran.
Things were out of hand now. With the serenity to accept that which he could not change, he pulled his old hanky out of his jeans pocket and cleaned up the glistening portal of doom.
There was no turning back
What’s done was done.
It was time to deal with the aftermath of the shit storm.
He waddled to the restroom, a deep sense of shame pervading his man spirit.
As best he could, he cleaned up again with some moistened single-ply and headed back to camp.
Nothing really prepares a man for shitting his britches around a father-in-law
When Hubs got to the RV, he explained the horrible incident.
“You ran into the bait-blesser!” Dad was aghast. He knew Hubs was so courteous he’d die a thousand deaths before interrupting someone.
Dad said, “Better assemble the outdoor shower. You smell like shit!”
The hubs only had one pair of jeans, and they were not clean
Now they were soaking wet, because he showered in them. So, what happened next, pray tell?
The tall skinny hubs had to borrow the jeans of the short, fat father-in-law to head to the local outdoor store.
Imagine a man with a 34" waist and 36" inseam wearing a pair of jeans with a 40" waist and 30" inseam!
Hubs hit the town with his belt cinching it all together! Just thinking about it makes me laugh.
After a long shower and a shopping trip, all was well again
The fishing trip rolled along without a hitch, and made for a story we can all laugh at!
Happy is the wife who can laugh with her husband over such an incident.
It was the merry Coast Trip Poopapalooza! Hubs lived to tell the tale.
And if you think this can’t happen to you, think again. The shit storm will happen, and it will humble you. Then, you can laugh about it! Always laugh at the shit storm!
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another for you! Thanks for reading!
This one will suit the unique content of Badform!
