My husband and I got divorced when I was 22 years old. Our son was two. We stayed apart for four years and then remarried. During these four years, we both dated other people. When this story happened, I was dating a guy named Shane.
One weekend Shane and I didn’t have anything to do, so we decided we would head up to my Aunt Pat’s house and surprise her. She lived in Goodletsville, right outside of Nashville. It was about an hour drive from my house.
Patricia had no idea we were coming. I never just showed up at her house unannounced. But she was super cool and I wanted Shane to meet her. Aunt Pat was in a category all her own. She was in her 60’s, and she owned a successful company that she started from scratch. She always wore blonde wigs, a ton of makeup, false eyelashes, fake nails, big jewelry, and loud, colorful clothes. She was almost six feet tall, had big boobs, and with all that stuff she had going on, you couldn’t miss her. That’s the way she liked it. Patricia had smoked most of her life, so she had the smoker’s cough. She always had a cigarette in her hand. She also loved a good drink, and she loved to laugh. She was great.
It was dark by the time Shane and I got to her house. She was out in the country a little way, so there were no street lights to give us away. We headed to the front door and I noticed it was cracked a little as I was about to knock. I looked at Shane and smiled an evil smile, waving him to follow me into the house where we would really surprise her! We tiptoed into the foyer five or six steps when we stopped to assess the situation. I didn’t see or hear anyone, but it smelled really weird in the house. “She’s smoking pot!”, Shane said with a laugh. What?! No way! Well, he was right, it did smell like pot. This was an area that I was not very familiar with at all, having only smoked a little bit of it maybe once or twice.
About that time, my cousin, Chris comes bounding down the stairs. He gets about halfway there and stops short when he spotted us. He was in utter shock to see us, and you could say that he looked like the cat that ate the canary. Chris was Patricia’s youngest son, and he was almost exactly my age. He always considered me a goody-two-shoes, and I guess compared to him, I was. I looked at him and squinted my eyes, grinned and said, “Are ya’ll smoking weed?” He knew they were busted, so he just laughed and said that they were. “Well,” I said, “give us some!”
Next thing I know, I’m getting high with my aunt and first cousin for the first time ever. Patricia remarked several times, “I can’t believe you’re here smoking dope with me. I wonder what your daddy would say.” He was deceased, so I think she was trying to decide if he would be mad at her or not. I don’t think he would’ve been. We were laughing and having a good time!
After we smoked all the weed, she led the three of us down into the kitchen to make drinks. We were going to have White Russians. It had Vodka, Kahlua, and heavy cream. We had milk instead of heavy cream. They were so good! I have no idea how many I had. Needless to say, I was one messed up niece. I wasn’t used to drinking a whole lot, and adding White Russian to the weed was a mistake.
Instead of driving back home like we had planned, we decided to stay the night. Shane wasn’t completely wasted like I was, but I wasn’t in the mood for an hour-long drive home. Patricia showed us where we would sleep and then bid us goodnight. I was beginning to feel sick and Shane ran out to find me a trash can.
What happened next was one of the top three single most embarrassing moments of my life. Normally I like to be alone when I puke my guts out, but gentleman Shane was going to hold my hair for me. I had been laying on the bed when the first wave hit me. I felt it come from the depths of my body. I vomited fiercely and angrily into the trash can. Then, to my horror, the uncontrollable wrenching of my stomach forced a large man-sized amount of gas out of my rear end. I made the sound that a loud ship makes when it’s pulling out of the dock, its’ captain honking the horn for all the waving bystanders on the dock. I was shocked and humiliated, my eyes opened as wide as they would go as I looked up at Shane. I could see the amusement in his face and I was immediately pissed! I started to say something, but instead I leaned my head towards the trash can to again, let my innards shoot out of my body like a cannon. Simultaneously, the loudest fart I have ever created came out forcefully out of the other end. I couldn’t stop it! I was throwing up and trying to slam my ass cheeks together to stop the air from bursting out, but it was too powerful! Shane was trying to cover his mouth so I wouldn’t see him laughing, but I was powerless to control any of the things that were happening in that room. I vomited, I farted louder. I puked again, I farted longer. I have no idea how many times it happened, but it seemed as if it would never end. I was in tears from embarrassment, I was seething with anger, and I was sore from all that throwing up.
It was finally over, thank God, and I passed out til morning. Shane drove us home and I went to bed. A couple of months later, I broke up with Shane. I do have to admit he was a gentleman. Not only did he hold my hair for me that night, he never mentioned it to me again. I’m sure he mentioned it to other people, but that’s to be expected. He’s only human after all.


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