Beware the Ice Cream...

I suppose it's my turn now.

Well, here it is folks. My most embarrassing story is... waiting until the last minute to do my post.

Thank you everyone. It was a lovely show, wasn't it? Don't worry. I'll be here all night.

No, but seriously.

Anyway, to fully understand my story, I have to give you background details. So, each spring break, our youth group used to take a trip down to Bayou La Batre, Alabama. Those of you who are involved with the same youth group as us will know how great of a trip it was. For those who aren't, it was a great trip! We stayed at the Hemley Road Church of Christ and got to worship God and do his work around a town that needed it. I've a lot of good memories associated with this trip, and this is not one of them.

So, it was another spring break at BLaB. We had been there a total of 24 hours, and I was loving it. I was surrounded by friends and doing something I love. It was a Sunday, and usually we go down and have service with another local church of Christ on Sunday. Before we left for the service, this ice cream truck had stopped by, and we filled up. Afterwards, we piled in to go to said church. I was riding in a smaller van with some of my friends and ice cream wrappers were EVERYWHERE. Keep this in my mind as we progress through the story.

From what I remember, it was a great service. I had a good time and got to meet some new brothers and sisters in Christ. After about an hour, we headed back to Hemley Road. It was getting fairly close to lights out time, so we had our short daily meeting, and then we were dismissed to free time by the chaperones. I decided to chill in the dining hall which is a short walk over from the main church building where we slept. I was hanging out and talking with friends and having a blast. But something was wrong. Every time I got up and walked around, I could hear laughter from behind me. And I was 100% they were not laughing with him. at first I just shrugged it off. Soon, I headed back to the main building to chill there, but when a friend of pulled me over, I grew concerned. She said something to the effect of "Honeybagel, well... umm... how can I put this? Oh, never mind, just keep walking."

So, I kept walking. Before I could get out the door though, another friend of mine (this guy is a true bro) came up to me and said. "Follow me."

I was very confused, but I did. He led to me to the auditorium where the guys slept and changed and pretty much lived for the week. He looked at me and said "Take off your shorts." And I replied, "WHAT?! NO!"
But then he said, "You have to trust me. Take off your shorts." Naturally, I did. Then, he said, "Now turn them around."

Boy was I shocked. For on the back of my shorts was... A giant brown spot. Right on the tail of my shorts. And I had been walking around and meeting total strangers at the service with this brown spot on my shorts.

It wasn't feces though. It was chocolate from the ice cream wrapper. But to the regular Joe, it very much looked like feces.

So, there you go. To sum it up, I walked around and met total strangers and socialized with people with a spot on my shorts that looked like I had accidentally taken a number two all over myself.

Shamefully yours,
Honeybagel