I Better Hurry

This is one of those kind of stories that old men tell and as much as I hate to admit it, this story confirms my status as an old man. It was my day off, I slept in a little bit (and yes 8 AM is sleeping in) and I thought I would make a Bojangle's run when I got up. I had a few other errands to run while I was out and I thought I would take care of everything while I was out.

I went by Bojangle's, ate my biscuit, and headed by Ingle's to fill my car with gas. As I am finishing up, my stomach starts rumbling. I wanted to drop by my storage unit which was only about a quarter mile from Ingle's so I am thinking "I have plenty of time before I need to find a bathroom." I stopped by my storage unit and dropped off a few boxes and right as I was locking it back up, my stomach really started rumbling except for it was more of a growl. I needed to find a bathroom fast but my house was about three miles away. I quickly calculated that if I drove like a bat out of hell, I could make it to my house before my ass exploded. What I did not calculate was the fact that I had to go through a security gate, navigate traffic, a red light, and the local law enforcement who had nothing better to do than write speeding tickets on a Friday morning.

The speed limit to my house is 45 MPH. My math (and my ass) told me I needed to do 75 MPH. I kept one eye out for the local po po and the other eye watched out for traffic. I made it to the turn off to my driveway to the house and I had to wait on some old man out for a ride on his motorcycle, and another car. They did not understand the seriousness of my situation. I flew down my driveway and slid to a stop. I already had my seatbelt off and my key out to unlock the front door. I thought "I am going to make it!"

I ran up to the front door, jammed the key in the lock, turned the key, turned the door knob and bounced right off the front door. The door would not open. I slapped the door a couple of time in frustration, pulled my key out, and realized that I was a little too exuberant in trying to open the door. I had bent the key in half. I also realized that I had about five seconds to "splashdown."

I looked at my mangled key and I had to make a quick decision. The construction crew that works on the property had left a dump truck behind and I knew I needed to utilize the assets I had on hand. I sprinted over, pulled my shorts down (luckily I went kamikaze when I left the house), squatted beside one of the tires of the dump truck, and then my ass exploded. It was not pretty. My quick thinking had averted a disaster that could have happened in the front seat of my car but I knew it wasn't over yet.

I still needed to get back in the house before round two hit. I bent the key back as straight as I could, managed to get the door open, and promptly tripped right over my dog Molly, who was so happy to see me she could not hide her joy and was insistent on getting in my way all the way to the bathroom. After round two was over, I promptly threw my shorts away and took a shower.

I can now share my story with other old men and I am sure we will laugh about it. God knows a couple of my friends that I have already shared the story with have already found it funny as hell.