This one is embarrassing to think about. I apologise in advance for bad formatting/wording. It's 2am and Im on the shitter.

This happened a few years back. My mum thought it was a good decision to order an Indian takeaway for dinner. Im not fussed, so I just agree with the choice and go along with my day.

At the time I didn't stop to think about the impacts Indian food has on me. It comes in a solid out a liquid, my body just says "nope fuck it" and dispenses it at will.

After the meal had finished I headed upstairs and turned on some music. 5 minutes post meal the farts kicked in. You know the ones. They smell exactly like what you are but are a little off. I proceeded to push one out but to my despair I sharted. It pierced my boxers and punctured my elmos jammies with the liquid that shout out my ass. I took it all off and shoved it in the washing basket.

So I'm now bottom half naked, ass covered in shite. This isn't the humiliating part. I'm getting onto it.

The washing bin was empty. It was wash night, and all my clothes were well, being washed. Everyone had gone up because they finished their meals, so I decided to waddle my way downstairs and see if anything was done washing.

I walk into the kitchen and the cat has a fucking mouse in its mouth. It stares me down and starts giving me them "back off this is mine" growl. This attracts the dog. It sees the cat with the mouse and launches over at it, scampering on the new hardwood floor.

I grabbed a pair of boxers right before the dog knocked me over trying to get to the cat, which scurried out through the cat flap.

So now I'm lying on the floor, donger hanging to one side, holding a pair of boxers.

My brother walks down and sees me like this just as the dog comes into sight. He thought I got the dog to lick my knob. Oh how difficult it was to explain that one.