That Nasty Lactose - Forgive Me - This One's Just Too Hilarious Not To Post

This embarrassingly irreverent piece is loosely based on a true story for which I've paid the price for pretty much causing it to happen more than once...PLEASE, no hate mail! PS: "Bonnie" is a fictional character, my wife made me add that! Cheers, Mark Those who are lactose intolerant are well aware why rest-rooms - to which - when they are needed - they can navigate their rump Pretty close to instantly - (even if they’re filthy)…simply must be handy when it’s time to -- take a dump, And need to be included in all 'cruising calculations'…making sure a place-to-poop is never far away. My wife and I discovered how important this can be when traveling with some fellow cruisers just the other day. Me an’ her were rolling down the highway in our Edsel, when Bonnie said, “Hey, honey…better find a place to stop. I need to use a restroom soon. I shouldn’t have had that sundae. And while I’m on the toilet, you can grab us each a pop.” Bonnie has a tendency to wait a bit too long, and now and then she’ll break into this dorky little dance. But what appears the “jitterbug” is actually agitation evidencing someone who’s about to - pea their pants! Based upon the way that she was twitching I could tell that virtually any place that I could muster would suffice, And takin’ a chance she'd crap her pants - just to stay on schedule - wasn’t a choice for which she was prepared to pay the price! So, just the way an admiral, in a storm - to save his ship - will beeline for the nearest shore to search for empty ports, I began to focus on what Bonnie had requested, knowing, if I failed to find a john…she’d fill her shorts! Fifteen minutes later we were roaring up an off-ramp which led to but a gravel road…no businesses in sight! To our left, for several miles, lay only barren land…but, luckily…about a quarter mile to our right Stood a tiny patch of trees with fairly good-sized trunks…wide enough to hide behind for someone Bonnie’s size. “Damn it, that‘ll have to do…just get me to those trees,” she screeched, and I could easily tell - by looking in her eyes - Every second counted, so I bolted for the spot, and hadn’t even put the car in park before she’d jumped! Couple minutes later she was peeping through the branches trying hard to make me see that…now that she had dumped…. She was needing Kleenex - or the like - to tidy up. Something kinda spongey-like…to clean her…you know what. Rifling through the trunk I found a couple crusty rags. “Guess these rags ‘ll have to do,” I yelled, “to wipe your butt!” Thinking back, I shouldn’t have been surprised at her reaction - screaming like a banshee, as she blew her blankin’ lid, “This would not have happened if this cruise were better planned…and you - ya’ lard-***ed pile of crap - are full of --- what I did!” And had I only thought it through before my next remark… for which - in, oh, so many ways - she’s made me wish I had… I’d ‘ve dodged a lot o’ hell, but…like a fool, I said… “I didn’t know that anything on earth could smell this bad!!!!!