E R N I E ' S   H O U S E   O F   W H O O P A S S

A good friend of mine took on a part-time job as a holiday UPS man for the Christmas season. He needed a little extra cash, and the delivery job seemed easy enough.

One particular evening at the height of the Christmas sending season, he found himself frantically delivering packages, trying to regain some time and get back on his schedule. For some reason, it's always those hectic moments in life when our bowels decide it's time to activate.

My friend, sweat beading up on his brow, was packing up and heading to the next delivery when he felt that familiar pressure in his crinkle tart that signals a bullet being in the chamber. He kept on delivering, though, trying to make it to the end of the night without having to make a rest stop. At this point, a rest stop would throw him off schedule to the point where he would be reprimanded for late deliveries. He quietly prayed for the turtle head to go back up and leave him be for awhile, but alas, fecal matter was about to touch cloth, and he began sweating more profusely and trying to think of a solution to his problem.

He made the next delivery anxiously, squelching the urge to release by clenching and walking quickly back to his truck to sit down. As he told it, panic set in at this point as he realized he was dilated to a 10 and the baby was going to deliver.

He put the truck in drive and frantically searched the neighborhood for a safe, out of the way spot to park. He told me that during the Christmas season, if another UPS driver saw your truck, it was common for him/her to pull over and lift up the back door of the truck and offer assistance in delivering. Therefore, he had to choose his spot carefully, so as to avoid an unexpected back door lifting. His plan had already hatched in his mind. The back of the truck would be the scene of the crime.

His O-ring quivering, he hastily picked a spot and pulled over. Clawing his way to the back of the truck, he unbuckled his belt and dropped the familiar brown UPS slacks in an effort that would secure him a world record. He looked around the truck, surveying packages and other materials at his disposal, and decided upon a piece of plastic as his makeshift commode. Holding it behind him with one hand, he squatted and proceeded to launch the missle, senses alive with adrenaline, ready to make a dive for the front seat if the back door suddenly lifted.

Luckily, his efforts yielded one, large, nicely formed log, that would require minimal wipeage. As luck would have it though, as he turned around to survey his masterpiece, the piece of plastic tilted slightly and the log, precariously balancing on the makeshift toilet began to roll slowly toward the edge of the plastic. Quick reflexes weren't enough to salvage the situation, and before my friend could make a grab for his own bodily waste, the turd plopped unceremoniously onto the Christmas package of an unsuspecting holiday customer.

Plastic, turd smeared rectangle in hand, pants around his knees, brown star not yet wiped...my friend stood frozen for what seemed like an eternity until his regained his wits and formulated a new plan. He tossed the plastic into another refuse bag, and quickly pulled up his pants, making a mental note to shower before relaxing with his girlfriend at home later that night. He grabbed another piece of plastic and scooped up his masterpiece, trying to take care in not smearing the fecal matter on the holiday package. Unfortunately...it left DNA evidence behind, and there was no way the package could be delivered in this current state.

Again, the familiar feeling of panic hit my friend as he realized minutes were ticking away and his little rest stop was about to get him into hot water back at the UPS station. He did the only thing a UPS man COULD do at this point in time...he grabbed a carpet knife and cut off the wrapping on the affected area of the box.

Later that evening, a package was delivered to a kindly old gentleman with a corner of his wrapping paper missing. He would never know that earlier that evening, his package had undergone a hideous and unspeakable abuse.

The turd made it's way to a garbage can outside the UPS station. My friend made it home and his story made it's way into his circle of close friends...becoming the legend you know read before you.

Next time you see a UPS truck parked in your neighborhood, it could be that some poor stressed UPS man is laying an egg behind the close back door. A nice visual for your drive home. :-)