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Number 1 or Number 💩


(Grammar alert: a run-on sentence is about to occur and you have to read it rapidly and in one breath...the same way it occurred in my head when I observed this incident. Warning: you may lose consciousness while reading it in that manner but it’s the only way to truly experience the urgency of the dilemma I was facing)

That awkward moment when you’re at the gym running on a treadmill with a view into the parking lot and witness an elederly gent standing outside that either:

1. has a large hole in the back of his pants and is wearing dark colored underwear OR

2. had an “accident” that leaked through his pants,

and you feel a social responsibility to help prevent futher embarrassment by discreetly informing him of his posterior malady, but your current age casts doubt on the accuracy of your eyesight from this distance so you’re unable to identify WHICH of the 2 mishaps have occurred and know the only way to determine the cause of the large dark spot on his dungarees is to dismount the treadmill, press your face up against the window and stare intently at his buttocks...which will cause even more awkwardness and unwanted attention to his blemished britches, but while you’re debating and envisioning all of this in your head he walks to his car and drives out of your life and you’re left feeling socially irresponsible and inadequate for doing nothing to help this poor bloke because you were too focused on trying to identify which of the 2 predicaments afflicted him, #1 or #2? ...and then you laugh out loud about the irony of predicament #2 LITERALLY being “a number 2” and wonder at what age you will no longer giggle at potty humor


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