Case #48 - re The People vs Craig “Biscuits” Roberts (The heart attack and the interior design consultant )
Case #48 - re The People vs Craig “Biscuits” Roberts (The heart attack and the interior design consultant )
In the early 90’s, Craig Roberts (aka "Biscuits") and I were working 162 Earlies. We got a rescue call of a woman not breathing in the area of 121st Street and Avalon Boulevard. When we got to the house, the woman’s boyfriend directed us inside and said the woman was in the bathroom. We went to the bathroom, opened the door, looked inside, and saw the extremely large woman sitting naked on the toilet, apparently dead. The foul odor caused by her final bowel movement forced us to back quickly out with our eyes watering and our stomachs churning.
“Hooooly Shit!!!!”, gasped, "Biscuits".
“Nothin’ Holy about that, pal!”, I replied.
I then took a deep breath and headed back in for seconds. She was a BIG woman, around 5’10” and 280 lbs, staring up at the ceiling with her legs splayed out. The toilet was FILLED with her final bowel movement. Heaven won’t take you, if you’re full of shit, I guess, and she was definitely in line at The Pearly Gates. I looked for, "Biscuits", he was nowhere to be seen. I grabbed the dead woman under the arm pits and dragged her down the hall into the living room. I only weighed 175 at the time, so THAT was a mission! I told Momma to close the bathroom door. I laid the dead woman on the living room floor in preparation to give C.P.R. I looked over at, "Biscuits", because I was the senior guy and I sure as hell wasn’t going to put my lips on her, I was taking the chest. That weasel, "Biscuits", purposely avoided looking at me and started grabbing chairs and moving them around. I directed Boyfriend in the breaths, while I did the compressions.
I looked over at, "Biscuits", again and he quickly looked away and began adjusting the position of the dining room table. Sgt. Jerry Kaono arrived just in time to see, "Biscuits", adjusting the position of the living room area rug. I was then distracted by something, they never tell you about in first aid class. On about my 5th compression, the woman farted. I’m not talking about a little poofy, or a small high pitched squeaker, I’m talking about a full blown, chili eatin’, beer guzzling, trucker butt blast. Everyone froze. Me, "Biscuits", Boyfriend, Kaono, and Mama. The only movement in the room were the dead woman’s fluttering butt cheeks and the living room curtains that were flailing about in Hurricane Booty. Then everyone pretended nothing happened. Everyone knows it’s not polite to comment on a dead person’s intestinal problems. So we went back to what we were doing, as if nothing had happened. I did compressions, Boyfriend gave the breaths, "Biscuits", rearranged the curtains, Kaono stood by sergeant-like and Momma went in search of a can of "Glade". But you can’t put toothpaste back in the tube…and there was a whoooole lot of toothpaste in this tube. After that first fart, every single time I performed a compression, she let loose with another one of those fearsome blasts. It was as if her boyfriend’s breaths were making a beeline for her ass, instead of her lungs. I was holding my breath to keep from gagging and biting my lip to keep from laughing. Kaono had to turn away, to hide the big grin on his face from Momma. "Biscuits", was turning beet red from the effort he made to keep from bursting out in laughter, as he rearranged furniture. I remembered the warning every C.P.R instructor I ever had, had given,
“Be prepared. When you give C.P.R, you're probably going to break some ribs.”
I had always assumed they were referring to the victim’s ribs. I suddenly realized, they meant we would probably bust a rib from laughing. Then she started cutting loose with higher pitched farts from her... "front hole",... if you catch my drift. These "front hole" wind breaks were not instead of, but in addition to, the butt blasts. If you've ever watched a Three Stooges skit where they are asleep snoring, you have an idea of what it sounded like. Finally the paramedics arrived. I was never so happy to see a fireman. Long story short, the paramedics complimented me on saving the woman’s life and Momma complimented, "Biscuits", on the new look he had given her living room.
Verdict – Craig "Biscuits" Roberts, this Court finds you Guilty of Possession Of An Unusually Heightened Design Sense.
Sentence – This Court orders you to join the cast of Queer Eye For the Straight Guy. Yeah, I know they've been canceled, so have you.
In the early 90’s, Craig Roberts (aka "Biscuits") and I were working 162 Earlies. We got a rescue call of a woman not breathing in the area of 121st Street and Avalon Boulevard. When we got to the house, the woman’s boyfriend directed us inside and said the woman was in the bathroom. We went to the bathroom, opened the door, looked inside, and saw the extremely large woman sitting naked on the toilet, apparently dead. The foul odor caused by her final bowel movement forced us to back quickly out with our eyes watering and our stomachs churning.
“Hooooly Shit!!!!”, gasped, "Biscuits".
“Nothin’ Holy about that, pal!”, I replied.
I then took a deep breath and headed back in for seconds. She was a BIG woman, around 5’10” and 280 lbs, staring up at the ceiling with her legs splayed out. The toilet was FILLED with her final bowel movement. Heaven won’t take you, if you’re full of shit, I guess, and she was definitely in line at The Pearly Gates. I looked for, "Biscuits", he was nowhere to be seen. I grabbed the dead woman under the arm pits and dragged her down the hall into the living room. I only weighed 175 at the time, so THAT was a mission! I told Momma to close the bathroom door. I laid the dead woman on the living room floor in preparation to give C.P.R. I looked over at, "Biscuits", because I was the senior guy and I sure as hell wasn’t going to put my lips on her, I was taking the chest. That weasel, "Biscuits", purposely avoided looking at me and started grabbing chairs and moving them around. I directed Boyfriend in the breaths, while I did the compressions.
I looked over at, "Biscuits", again and he quickly looked away and began adjusting the position of the dining room table. Sgt. Jerry Kaono arrived just in time to see, "Biscuits", adjusting the position of the living room area rug. I was then distracted by something, they never tell you about in first aid class. On about my 5th compression, the woman farted. I’m not talking about a little poofy, or a small high pitched squeaker, I’m talking about a full blown, chili eatin’, beer guzzling, trucker butt blast. Everyone froze. Me, "Biscuits", Boyfriend, Kaono, and Mama. The only movement in the room were the dead woman’s fluttering butt cheeks and the living room curtains that were flailing about in Hurricane Booty. Then everyone pretended nothing happened. Everyone knows it’s not polite to comment on a dead person’s intestinal problems. So we went back to what we were doing, as if nothing had happened. I did compressions, Boyfriend gave the breaths, "Biscuits", rearranged the curtains, Kaono stood by sergeant-like and Momma went in search of a can of "Glade". But you can’t put toothpaste back in the tube…and there was a whoooole lot of toothpaste in this tube. After that first fart, every single time I performed a compression, she let loose with another one of those fearsome blasts. It was as if her boyfriend’s breaths were making a beeline for her ass, instead of her lungs. I was holding my breath to keep from gagging and biting my lip to keep from laughing. Kaono had to turn away, to hide the big grin on his face from Momma. "Biscuits", was turning beet red from the effort he made to keep from bursting out in laughter, as he rearranged furniture. I remembered the warning every C.P.R instructor I ever had, had given,
“Be prepared. When you give C.P.R, you're probably going to break some ribs.”
I had always assumed they were referring to the victim’s ribs. I suddenly realized, they meant we would probably bust a rib from laughing. Then she started cutting loose with higher pitched farts from her... "front hole",... if you catch my drift. These "front hole" wind breaks were not instead of, but in addition to, the butt blasts. If you've ever watched a Three Stooges skit where they are asleep snoring, you have an idea of what it sounded like. Finally the paramedics arrived. I was never so happy to see a fireman. Long story short, the paramedics complimented me on saving the woman’s life and Momma complimented, "Biscuits", on the new look he had given her living room.
Verdict – Craig "Biscuits" Roberts, this Court finds you Guilty of Possession Of An Unusually Heightened Design Sense.
Sentence – This Court orders you to join the cast of Queer Eye For the Straight Guy. Yeah, I know they've been canceled, so have you.
I really love your blog and I check it regularly for updates. You definitely have your way with words, but this article .. oh man, you almost killed me, or should I say the trucker butt blast? I laughed so hard my daughter ran into my office. Apparently I made noises that borderlined on somebody kicking the bucket in a nasty way :)))
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for writing those stories!
All the best,
Stefan Hahn/Germany
Thank you very much for reading and commenting. The comments let me know if the story are being well received.
DeleteI read Quora and enjoy your answers. I subscribed to your blog and am so glad I did. Now I can come straight to the source. You are freaking hilarious. Ever think about compiling these? I would definitely buy the book.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the compliment. I'm glad you enjoy my writing. I thought about writing a book, but I think of a book as being something with a plot. I just have a bunch of short stories. And, I know I'm way to damned lazy to write a book. I think the stories would make for a funny TV series though. Unfortunately, I only know one producer, my cousin, but he produces porn. I don't see us collaborating any time soon.
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