He was working in a car factory in Michigan years ago and had eaten McDonald’s burritos with hot sauce prior to starting his night shift.

The thing about the shift is there are very specific break times, you don’t stop working or stop the machines unless it is an absolute emergency.

Because of the need to keep the machines going, there are supervisors that are available to jump in if needed.

My buddy starts feeling the stomach gurgles. He’s in a white bunny suit that doesn’t breathe well, he’s getting really sweaty. The pain of holding in the pure death trying to escape him is getting more than he can handle.

He lets out a little fart and it’s wet and burning. The smell of the fart is just horrendous, and it’s not dissipating.

He calls out for the supervisor to jump in so he can run to the bathroom, the supervisor is not hearing him and he is losing his bowels. His knees are buckling, he can barely stand.

Finally he gets the supervisor to come over and he bee lines for the staff bathroom. He is only ten feet from the bathroom and just explodes into his underwear. He gets into the bathroom and finishes the job.

The problem is the underwear are covered, there’s no paper towel or garbages, just air dryers.

After some stressful deliberation, he decides to flush the underwear down the toilet. They go down no problem and he heads back out to the floor full commando in his bunny suit.

He survives his shift and wears his bunny suit home.

The next day he shows up to his shift and the bathroom is totally out of service. The plumbing is backed up in both the men’s and women’s rest room.

Everyone is trying to figure out what happened. The management remind the female staff not to flush feminine products down the toilet.

He thinks he’s gotten away with it when he walks in on the third day after his episode, and notices he’s getting some odd looks and sees some coworkers laughing at him as he walks into the factory. He walks into the staff room and sees, a pair of tightie whitey’s pinned up on the cork board. His initials written on the waistband. J.C.S.

And that’s how he ended up moving to Arizona from Michigan, it was the only way to cut the tail off of that fart.