Embarrassing Sh*t

Embarrassing things are funny if they don't happen to you. Here is a story about B Harris.

B Harris is trying to get in shape. He works out often, running and lifting weights and such. One day, not too long ago, B Harris decided that he wanted to go running outside, around Burke Lake in Northern Virginia. Now Burke Lake isn't huge, but if you run around the perimeter, it is about 4.5 miles or so of relatively flat ground. Not a bad jog, if you ask me. So B Harris starts out and finishes without any mess occurring, and needless to say he is winded after the run.

He cools down a tad, and the people he ran with decided that they want to play Frisbee Golf (disc golf, frolf to others). He reluctantly agrees to do this. You see, all this time a rumblin' has been churning in his stomach. He knows not what it means, but he doesn't like it. It makes him nervous.

As they begin their round, B Harris is the last to throw off of the first tee. He unleashes a mighty drive, the disc careening toward the basket. His opponents are impressed. But they do not know that the disc was not the only thing he unleashed. Gasp, you say. B Harris is frozen in place. Tushy clinched. Asstonished.

You guessed it. He sharted his drawers. Now, most of us have likely experienced this unfortunate event at some point in our lives. What can you really do? So, with cheeks taut, he informs his opponents about his situation (they were not impressed, yet wholly amused) and waddles up to the bathroom to clean himself. He was ashamed. Add another blemish to a long list of skidmarks.

The End.

And by B Harris, I mean me.

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