I was reminiscing about the time I was married to my beautiful wife. We were both kneeling at the altar, and I had the whitest of white pants on, and of course she was lovely, and all morning long, my stomach was rolling and my bowels sounded like reverberated sounds echoing in the deep chasms of the Grand Canyon, and I had one episode after another of fighting back this watery diarrhea that finally exploded in my white trousers while facing the wedding guests at my wedding, and went those boughs broke from the dam it sounded like Niagra Falls after a surging Spring storm, the sight of my immaculate white pants filled with carmel colored diarrhea was the earliest exit of any wedding I have witnessed. Even the preacher snuffed me out, as the streak of shit just kept coming, and I'm standing there pretending nothing is happening and hoping my underwear was holding back this tsunami, but they’re drenched like a fireman’s noodle.
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