Help me! My soul was cut deep.?

It was last night. I was urinating into my gramps' antique outhouse aging back to the 1500's. Just as I attempted to flush the overgrown m of doo doo and feces thrown all over the walls, I heard an earsplitting thump outside the wooden cubicle. I attempted to yank my trousers over my numerous rolls that have been fissuring for the past few days. I then hauled out of there (my first instinct) My undergarments barely contained my bubbling lard. I was so terrified of being attacked that I did my best to sprint at full throttle with my undies around my ankles and my cellulite bobbing up and down. I heard the ominous crunch of leaves behind my tread. I was panting and I could hear the tremors of my heart in my ears. Finally, I grabbed the flashlight from between the crevices of my lard, that I keep for these kinds of situations. I shone the light on my attacker, when I realized it was just gramps with his tiki mask. He went out to bring some toilet paper and fresh croissants. I was left humiliated with my undergarments around my cankles. My gramps almost had a heart attack at the sight of my hideous lard barrels. I began mourning in severe discontent as my gramps dropped the fresh croissants and sprinted back into the house. What should I tell him next time I see him?