F.A.P.S.
F. A. P. S. is when your butt is burning like it’s on a grill. No chunks. Just pure misery and shame.
I had F. A. P. S. in my car and my dog looked at me like I betrayed him.
My little brother got F. A. P. S. and he cried like he was being tortured.
I had F. A. P. S. at the park and my dog ran away. He’s still hiding.