One day while driving through the swaps of Louisiana, I needed to take a dump. I was miles from home, and had no place to go.
I was pheering AIDS, so it wasn't like I could go to McD's, ya know? I saw a motel and thought, ah what the hell.
I go in, and tell the woman I'm in room 114 and the toilet is clogged, it needed to be repaired, but I needed to go to the restroom, and asked where their restroom was. She informed me there was no one in 114. I told her it was room 117. She said no one was in here, either. She then asked my last name, and I said "Jones", hoping for a Jones. She informed me there were no Jones. I told her I'd go look at the room number and then left. Having no where to go, I shat myself in my car.
The smell still haunts me of this epic fail.
