Shit predicaments become much more prevalent once small children are around. We were once running late for a doctor’s appointment and I didn’t realize the kid had taken a Legendary Shit while in the car seat. We pull up, I rip her out of her seat, quickly cradle her against my chest, smoosh shit literally all over the front of my, and rush in to check in at the office.
Only after checking in do I notice something is awry. There is shit all over me. I beeline for the bathroom. I pull the child away and realize my shirt looks like the Forrest Gump mud t-shirt. I immediately strip my upper body and throw out all clothes. But I am prepared. I call my wife, who was coming in behind us, and ask her to bring my emergency shirt from the car. This happened to be a shirt I got at a technical conference and was vacuum sealed into the size of my fist. Perfectly compact emergency shirt!
She brings it in, and I open it up, only to realize I now have a shirt that has checkerboard-pattern hard wrinkles like I have never seen before. The wrinkles are so hard that the shirt is jagged and I look like a low-poly model. But at least I’m not covered in shit (anymore).