Raw-Dogging Life
I was about 10 feet in the air when I felt the contents of my lower intestine begin to force their way through the seat of my cargo shorts. Fudge. “You OK?” my wife said, having just joined me on a landing with our 11-year-old son. “I’m not doing well,” I whispered. “What?” “I …,” I began, sheer shame preventing me
Source: fwweekly.com