Tragedy

So everyone decided to leave me home alone with my nephew today. Hours passed by and it was all going good. But just then, heavens descended into the depths of hell and all hell broke loose as he bounced up the sofa faster than a snail on steroids and rushed towards the empty corner of the house, standing there in an awkward robotic dance stance; a stance that you would only see Robocop using when he had a sandwich stuck up his ass.

I became suspicious, so I walked towards him and asked him what was he doing. My suspicion grew as he told me he was "looking for something". That's right, looking for something in the most emptiest corner of the house where all you could hear was the sound of oxygen being swallowed into our Indian lungs, and all you could see was out the window, where a half naked bearded guy holding a grenade was running on the street chasing a pigeon while consistently shouting the name of Allah.

This was a serious case, and due to the reluctance of the suspect to comply in the investigation, I was constrained into calling the FBI(Federal Bowel-movement Investigation Unit). Upon further interrogation, the frustrated suspect finally gave in and told us the not-so-shocking truth. The truth that will change history, the truth that will make humans second-think everything in existence, the truth that will change the future of mankind, the dirty truth, that he needed to take a shit.

I was caught off-guard, never expecting this tragedy to happen without anyone to clean it up. At that point, my "Shit-in-the-pants senses" were tingling, and I knew the end was near, too near for my liking, not to mention chocolaty as well. At that point, all kinds of disturbing images flowed into my head and coincidentally they all started with his baby butt. So being the great, and caring uncle that I was, I carried him and placed him on the toilet seat hoping for the best, expecting the worst. Every second felt like an eternity as I anxiously waited something "magical" to happen, something like the Toothfairy getting fired from her job and finding a new career path in collecting crap instead of teeth.

Nope, that didn't happen. But what did happen was that my nephew came to a conclusion that his shit wasn't gonna come out. I told him to remained seated just to make sure, but he was convinced that it was a false alarm and told me in his own words "I don't think it's gonna come out." Those were without doubt the most relieving words of my life. I even recorded them words and burned it into an hour long DVD for our next family movie session despite having no picture to watch. I then handed out my original MP3 file to Jay-Z who used it as a beat for his next album hit "What The Shit", which ended up selling millions of copies worldwide. True story.