Names have been changed to protect the guilty!
It is Christmas night, 1985. The whole family is at Grandma's sitting around the kitchen table after hours of gorging on a ham dinner, an assortment of cookies and pies, chocolate and presents! The kids have been allowed at the grown-up table and I'm swinging my feet as they hang from the big chair, when suddenly something smells really bad.
Everyone sort of looks around, but keeps nibbling and talking. It finally passes, though shortly after - we smell it again! It's really bad and now there are comments being made, children laughing, people denying responsibility, etc.
A few moments later Uncle Bob (whose name has been changed) gets up from the table, slips his feet sloppily into boots and leaves the house. A lot is going on so nobody thinks much of it until maybe fifteen minutes later, when we realize he hasn't come back.
Finally, when he has not returned after a half hour, someone calls his house, which is only a minute down the street. He doesn't answer because at almost that exact moment Uncle Bob walks back into Grandma's.
Everyone begins asking where he has been and he tries to avoid answering until someone says, "Uncle Bob, did you change your pants?"
"Oh Jesus Christ," yells Uncle Bob, beginning to laugh now . . . and if you knew Uncle Bob you would totally understand how he could find his next statements funny.
"Yes, I changed my pants, OK. I had gas so I went outside to let it pass and I shit my pants! I shit my pants so I had to go change 'em."
I have no memory of what happened next and it is better that way. I can't be bothered paying for any more therapy!