Sharted. Wow. So thats what it's called. Boy that brings back memories.

I sharted one time after my buddy dared me to eat a raw Scotch Bonnet after I had already eaten half a jar of Scotch Bonnet pickled sausage. I was sure I was "extreme" so I did it. Hell yeah, ain't scared right.

Hell NO. After the pain, tears and sweat subsided, my stomach made this weird gurgling sound like I'd never heard before. Sort of like rusty metal sqeaking down a chalkboard combined with a gurgle. I knew something was very wrong.

So... fast forward... I got about 100 yards into driving across the howard franklin back towards St. Pete on an emergency tech call when I "Sharted" about a quart of liquid into my drawers.

The worst part is I was driving to our other office 45 minutes away because of an emergency network repair call. I had to go in and do the work, shart or not, because the CEO was there waiting for me, already pissed off.

Lets just say there was no pleasant conversation when I arrived with wet pants smelling like backside skyway in the heat of the summer. I threw my underwear into a bush on the way in the door.

Don't ever let me eat one of those again. Ever. Yikes.