Oh My

[kennethdaysale]

During my Junior year in college I took a job at K-Mart as an assistant manager in the garden dept working nights and weekends. I was happily engaged but indulged in a little harmless workplace flirting with an extremely cute little cashier that worked out there with me.

A couple of my local fishing buddies had a longstanding tradition of taking me out on my birthday for a wild night of limb-lining, trot-lining, goat-grilling and drinking Jack Daniels straight out of the bottle like grown men. That birthday happened to fall on a Fri. night.

The next morning I was scheduled to work and being raised with a strong work ethic I grabbed a quick shower (threw on a pair of light sand colored cotton dockers) and went to work despite having a busted lip and an epic case of diahrea.

As soon as I get there and before I can get to the bathroom to let another half gallon of hot chocolate slurry escape my bowels my little flirt buddy "Crystal" asks If I would please empty her trash can (which is sitting 18" behind her against the wall and sadly unaware am I that what looked to me like just a tall can full of paper and register reciepts, is actually holding a 40 lb busted sack of Quickcrete stupidly dropped in there by a worthless thoughtless slug the night before.

"Sure baby girl I'll empty that can for you." I say as my left shoulder "accidentally" grazes her buttocks on my way down to lift it. Well as soon as that 40 pounds of weight hits my lower back my already tired sphincters can no longer the bear the strain and out comes a steaming hot half gallon of the vilest mix of undercooked goat flesh and Jack you can imagine accompanied by a sound and smell that would surely run a buzzard off a gut wagon.

When I got back to work an hour later, somehow and for whatever reason I found out Crystal had asked for and been granted a transfer to the downtown location.