The Goat Pen

hedge wrote:" I can talk about the fact that has you not gone to a real university in South Carolina you'd be helping Hedge load feed trucks to farmers using NC State technology to feed people."

Or he could've gone to NCState and been the assistant manager at an appliance store...

DooKSucks wrote:No, but I am sure we both make more money than you do, which must pain you tremendously.

goldenbear wrote:Any school that had Shackford and Washburn play for them cant talk. Pluc CJ leslie is no brain surgeron

Then it hits. A pain that can only be described as feeling like the entire book of Revelation has been unleashed in your stomach; and it consists of a rainbow of angry, soup-like quadrupeds marching forth to find the fastest way from the shackles of your bowels. You stop, and there is line of cold sweat washing over your forehead like a foreboding breeze of worse things to come. Staying strong for the sake of your family, you act as if nothing has given you reason to doubt the strength of your sphincter - so you bring the cheeks in tighter, and walk just fast enough that you can get in front of them at a safe distance to relieve some pressure. In the absolute clear, you little a little smoke bomb go - but...wait a minute, you felt the bay door open, but it never closed. Holding back a scream, you run your hand down the back of your North Face pants to check for moisture and determine that you were lucky this time, but in a couple of minutes it would be Black Friday at the checkout stand and there would be a flash mob pushing that door down. Damn, there's nothing but low lying brush and vine maple here - you'll have to soldier on and find a more discreet location to free your system of this evil, and find it fast. At this point, the utter pinnacle of fear, you remember that there was another car pulling in up at the trailhead when you set out on your hike - other people are here and it will take every single ounce of resourcefulness in your body to conceal the inevitable when it hits.

You see a grove of healthy cedar trees up ahead and you fly like a phoenix to the only thing that can close this terrifying chapter of your life. The trees conceal your condition from the view of others, but they fail tremendously to stop the sound of what can only be described as drowning a toddler in a mud puddle. Upon completion of this task, 30 minutes later, you emerge from the trees wishing you had a mirror to see how much of you remained. You turn and look back at your family that has, in the time it took you to find peace, doubled over and every one of them is curled into fecal position. Dropping to your knees you scream to the heavens and curse these dastardly gummi bears.