Cafeoutdoors.com: Flatulence And Other Bottom Of The Pyle Stuff

Uncle Duckins storys...

Tequila and Beaner Food Screamin? Squirts

Back in the mid 80's, when I was but a young buck, I was heading north to the Fresno area with a couple pals to pursue the fowl.....There was an Arctic Blast heading down the west side of the continent, and when the conditions are just right, multitudes of birds are on the leading edge of those ?blasts?, on their way to more hospitable surroundings...so, we wuz gonna catch some as they hauled assed south.

We stopped at a Mexican Restaurant somewhere?s around Bakersfield to get out of the weather, tip a few, and have us some vittles....I forget just what I ate, but I do remember having had a few Margarita?s, and several shots of Tequila...we drank, we ate, and then hit the road again.

Got up to our spot, dressed out, picked up all our gear and headed for the water in a freezing rain.
Well, I took maybe 10 steps and then got hit with THE URGE.....and it was an IMMEDIATE urge. My pals kept going, but I threw off my deke bag, dropped the rest of my gear, pulled down my canvas waders, my Levi?s, and the Long Johns I was a?wearin?, and squatted down ta pinch one off.....Didn?t end up ?pinching? off anything, as it turned out I had the ol? Tequila and Beaner Food Screamin? Squirts....
Did my business there in the dark and rain, cleaned up the ol? burnin? bung hole with the last of my T.P., pulled up my layers of clothes, and headed towards my gear whut was all strewn about...Maybe took a step, maybe two, and then realized that there was BIG WET inside my waders....figgered at first it was just rain, but then decided that just possibly, it was MORE than ?just rain?.
Got out the flashlight, dropped the waders and found that I had chit smack dab in my thermals...not just any ?chit? mind you, nope, kinda looked like one of them big ol? 10 pound Cow Pies ya see in the pasture...was all kinda green, slimy, runny, and stunk like something long dead....
And it was spread EVERYWHERE---- on the Levi?s, on the waders, and of course my thermals had taken the brunt of the assault........

Damn.....got no T.P left, and to be honest, it woulda took 4 or 5 rolls o? Brawny Paper Towels ta make a dent in the mess anyways....What ta do, what ta do????

Pulled off all my clothes, stood there shivering in my wool socks and pondered my predicament....yelled for my Bro?s, but they was LONG gone.....nobody else around neither....
Remembered that under my ?woolies? I had me a pair of cotton socks....I had on a forkin? T-Shirt, and I had me on a flannel long sleeve shirt whut had pockets AND sleeves....
As ya might could guess, I spent the rest of the day without no thermals, without no cotton socks, without no T-Shirt, and without no sleeves and pockets on my forkin? flannel shirt....
Worst part is, no matter how good I had tried to clean up my drawers and waders, I still stunk like a MoFo....none of my pals wanted ta sit next to me as we hunted, and all the way home they bitched until we found a forkin? store and bought me some new threads!!!

Funny thing is, no matter how bad the situation seemed ta be, it was never so bad that I even considered for a minute NOT HUNTING that forkin? storm.....

Laundry On The Rocks....

'Nother one happened when I was hunting a steep inclined bank along a slough....my huntin' partner and I decided to get up maybe 20 yards above the water on the aforementioned steep incline to pass shoot the birds level with where we were hiding, as they flew along about "yay high" ('bout 20 yards or so) over the water...
As usual, not unlike my forkin' Chessie, I got me all excited an' sech and got THE URGE again...
Well, in my infinite wisdom I decided that it was too much trouble to climb outta the "hole" and chit on flat ground, so's I dropped my drawers (no waders this time), and noted that if I faced DOWN HILL, gravity was wreaking havoc on my ability to chit without falling face forward....so I faced UP HILL, drawers down, and seemingly outta the way.
Well kids, as ya'll know, gravity and mathematics can play tricks on ya...I had figgered the turds ta drop vertically, which they did in a manner of speaking, BUT, me being at a 45 degree angle when I dropped the bombs, "vertical" just happened ta be downhill from me, and 'zactly where my drawers was all piled up where I thunked they would be outta the line o' fire...
Again, weren't no solid turds in the explosion, and again I done chit all over my forkin skivvies and camo pants....
The next thing my pal saw was me, running bare assed DOWN HILL to the waters edge, and scrubbing the chit off'n my clothes, not unlike a pioneer woman doing laundry on the rocks....
I still hear about that 'un from Bob (The Witness), as does EVERYBODY else he can think of ta tell....

Magic Of V.A. Hospital Food

Back in around 1980 or so I was in the V.A. Hospital out here in Long Beach gettin' some chit fixed that the Military owed me for....so there I was, all stoved up an' sech, bedridden more or less....A Doc stopped by to look me over and informed me that they needed a "stool sample"....Then a bit later an Orderly dropped off a forkin' little blue pan thing, kinda looked like a Banana Split dish, and told me to "sample it up" and when I was done to ring the Nurses Station and they would come get it and run it to the lab....

Well boys, tell ya, there weren't no way I could chit in that little dish a'layin' there in my bed, so I dragged my ass off to the bathroom, and yup, I had me a forkin' private room/bathroom at the V.A....go figger huh?
Anyway, I chit a GIGANTIC forkin' turd in that pan, honest ta God, it was a real Trophy!!! Was hanging off both ends, and for some dang reason it didn't break on the edge of the dish there....It was the first chit I had taken in DAYS, and maybe some of you fellers have experienced the Magic of V.A. Hospital Food--it is even nastier comin' out, than it was goin' in...talk about stink!!
So, I closed the bathroom door, and almost wanted to put a towel under it so's the stink wouldn't permeate my bedding an' all..., I hobbled my ass back to my bed, rung up the Nurses Station---bout two hours later a big ol' Silver Back Groid comes in my room, asks where the sample is, and I pointed to the bathroom....When he opened the door to retrieve the TURD there was an audible forkin' GASP, and the room was immediately filled with a horrible stench....The fowlmouther came flying outta there, Turd Pan balanced delicately, a shocked, ashen look (ever seen an ASHEN Groid??? I have!!!!)on his face, and he literally flew out the door and down the hallway-- almost sounded like he was running away by the tempo of his fast disappearing footsteps...with the TURD held firmly out front (two hands on the pan, as far away from his body as he could hold it-- kinda leading the way to the Lab seemed ta me!!!!
Whatever the outcome was, I never heard no more 'bout the Turd Sample, and as a matter of fact, nobobdy ever asked me for another neither...

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"Being deeply learned and skilled, being well trained and using well spoken words; this is good luck."

Edited by SwampFox (12/24/06 05:10 PM)

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