Coveralls, Jammies and Other Bits

My husband Randy had a good friend named Jeff. Now Jeff could have had a whole book himself, he was always into so much. Many of the stories in this book he was involved in. He had a penchant for getting the shitty side of things and usually causing major damage.

Like the one time, him and two other guys went to help a friend move. They borrowed a truck to make the move in. They get started down the road and Jeff decides he needs to blow his nose. Now Jeff always had a cold or something. So they root around in the truck and can’t find a thing for him to blow his nose on. Well Jeff doesn’t get deterred, he fishes under the seat until he comes up with an old pair of pajamas. He doesn’t pay much attention to the condition of said jammies, just puts them up to his face and proceeds to blow his nose. As his sinus passages clear, he begins to smell something. He takes the jammies away from his face and looks at them closely. “What the hell?” He exclaimed. “These here things are covered in shit.”

Completely disgusted, he rolls down his window and chucks them out. Almost immediately, a ruckus starts beneath the truck. The guy driving decides to pull over and check it out. He gives his signal and taps his brakes to slow down. The brake pedal hits the floor. He stomps and stomps the pedal with no response. Eventually, he gets the truck stopped and the three of them get out to see what has happened to the old truck. Well, when Jeff had chucked the jammies out the window, the wind caught them and pulled them underneath the truck where they became wrapped around the drive shaft. The drive shaft had whipped them around and around, causing them to tear every brake line off the truck.

Another time, Jeff had borrowed a buddy’s orange coveralls to go hunting in. Well, the day was going well in the woods, until Jeff decided that nature was calling. He found him a good spot and pulled those coveralls down. He merrily went about his business, finished up and went back to hunting. When he came out of the woods at dark, the guys all gathered in the old garage to compare stories. The fellers were piled around the old wood stove talking about their day. As they slowly thawed, you could hear sniffing. Some of the guys started complaining, “Hey, do you smell shit?” “What’s that smell?”

Before long, they had the smell pinpointed: Jeff. He didn’t understand what was going on but he got out of his coveralls and when he did, the source of the smell was discovered. When he’d been so careful that morning, taking his crap, he had accidentally shit in the hood of the coveralls. So, he had inadvertently worn the offending scent all day, obviously killing any chance he had of seeing a deer.

Another time, the shit literally stopped his hunt. He’d found him a great spot and settled down, about the time he got comfortable, he realized he had to go. He had always heard not to crap where you were going to hunt, so he went a ridge over, so as not to mess up his hunt. He found a nice big tree and looked all around, just to make sure there wasn’t anyone else in the area. Seeing nothing, he pulled down his drawers and commenced with his business. As the stench began to permeate the woods around him, his concentration was shattered by a bow hitting the ground beside of him. He stopped, mid push and looked up. There sat a woman, who was obviously livid and obviously the owner of the bow that disrupted his shit. Well, since he was puckered tight after all the commotion, he wiped his ass with as much dignity he could muster. Pulled up his drawers and apologized to the woman before high-tailing it back to his stand.

Another time, Jeff was helping a friend strip tobacco. As they finished up the day’s work, a woman who was helping told them all not to worry about lunch the next day, she would bring a pot of beans (pinto beans) to cook on the old wood stove. So, Jeff took her at her word. The next day, the pot of beans simmered on the old stove all morning. Lunchtime came and Jeff and the man he was helping lit into that pot of beans and ate until they about busted. The crew went back to work, about two hours later, Jeff said that his belly started working. He kept at the tobacco for as long as he could stand it. When the cramps became too much, he ran for the house. The guy that had helped him eat the beans took off about the same time. “Little son of a bitch run faster.” Jeff said of it all later. Well, the other guy made it to the bathroom first and was seated on the throne. Jeff couldn’t wait, so he dropped his drawers and stuck his rear over the bathtub. The explosion that followed, sent shit all the way to the ceiling. Relief flooded him, until he wiped his hind end and looked at the damage he’d caused. He went out and got in his vehicle, heading home before the guy’s wife came home and saw the mess. He didn’t show up to work any more that season. Later on, he found out that the woman who fixed the beans had doctored them up to give them the runs.

Food was always the bane of his existence. He really loved it and would eat until he would literally blow up. This happened to him one time on a hunting trip to Ohio with the gang. The guys came in from a day in the woods to a buffet fit for a king. Two long tables laden with goodies. Jeff filled his plate: once, twice, three times. He continued to visit the food tables until he was sitting there picking small bites off and grunting as he brought them to his mouth. “That there’s some good food.” He said as they pushed him away from the table. Finally, they got him to the trailer and into bed. About three in the morning, he woke Randy up looking for a flashlight. Randy told him there was one in the drawer. Jeff got the flashlight and headed to the outhouse. The guys that were staying close to them had taken an old porta-potty and wrapped it in tarps (I’m not sure why maybe to keep the wind out) and placed it inside a pine thicket. Jeff had gotten close to the structure when the flashlight went out. Beneath the pines, no light could shine through and it was as dark as the inside of a cave. Jeff knew he was going in the general direction and continued on, going back was not an option at this point. The pains were hitting hard and fast. Just as he reached the structure, he became entangled in the ropes used to tie the tarps up, one catching him around the neck. Well, he began flailing around like an old hen caught up in something. As he flopped and flailed, he could feel the explosion building. He dropped his drawers, found the door and got it open a split second before the eruption. Finally, when the urgency passed, he untangled himself and went back to the trailer to get ready to hunt.

Randy, who had gotten ready and left the trailer right after Jeff had awakened him, walked back into camp around lunch time. He stopped to talk to another one of the guys there. “Yep, old Bob said he’d love to catch the feller that did it, he’d probably shoot him. He’s been cleaning all day.” “What are you talking about?” “Old Bob wants to catch the person that defouled the outhouse.”

Well, as soon as Randy heard that, he knew what Jeff had done. He got on into camp and everywhere he turned, the men were all talking about what had happened to the outhouse and making guesses as to who did it. Jeff never said a word. Finally, Bob got it cleaned up and everything went back to normal. About two days later they hit the road home, Jeff began chuckling to himself as he rode in the camper with Randy. “What is it Jeff?” Randy asked him. “I got him, I really got him.” Jeff replied, giggling more. “I never really liked that old son of a bitch anyway.” “Who are you talking about?” Asked Randy, beginning to suspect the answer. “Old Bob. Never did like him and now I got him back. I shit all over his toilet.” Jeff’s grin was bigger than the mess he’d left. “I got tangled in them there ropes, one had me around the neck. I had to shit powerful bad and couldn’t get loose. I finally got backed up to the door, so I just opened it up, pulled down my pants and let er rip. I didn’t care what I did at that point.” He grinned at Randy. “And then when I got done, there was only one little square of toilet paper. I knew that that little bit wouldn’t wipe this here ass. So I had to get my knife out and cut my underwear off to wipe my ass with.”

Poor old Jeff, he sure did have a problem with shit.

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About christyfarrisbooks

Writer of young adult fantasy, romance and humor. Mother of seven. High ruler of the Kingdom of Crazy. :D
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