After a night of drinking with a friend, and a late night/early morning trip to TacoBell…so begins my tale of woe:
My colon seems to adhere to a strict schedule. Once upon rising and once before bed. Well, this unholy Taco Bell butt burrito decided to make its blessed journey into the world...at work. Fuck! I hate shitting at work! I almost never do. Well, I must have been in the bathroom for 45 minutes straining, grunting and bearing down. I sounded like I was in the labor room or at a Muscle Beach weight-lifting competition! I also pondered if all this 'bearing down' might cause a stroke and I wondered if my co-workers would find me stock-still on the floor of the bathroom with a turd half-in and half-out of my ass and my face frozen in a rictus of agony.
Would they laugh before calling 9-1-1? You bet they would!
Ever try to put your fist in your mouth? This turd had a Chupacabran thirst for ass blood and eldritch intelligence. I finally reached the conclusion that this turd was simply too big for my asshole and might have to be surgically removed but I hadn't given up yet so I tried to suck it back in for a try later on at home. Nope. It was stuck half way. So then I pondered on what to do. I didn't have any rubber gloves handy and I was NOT going to touch it with my hands because...I am a lady.
My new brother-in-law, Bill*** told us a story over Thanksgiving Dinner about when he was in the service and had the same problem -- except it was due to chocolate milk and he was in a barracks bathroom that had no stalls and he ended up yanking the stubborn "ass planet" out with his hand. Ewwwwww! Not me. If only I had some twine I could try and lasso it. Future Olympians could use it in the hammer throw. Yes, I had already considered getting up, spinning furiously and trying the rectal hammer throw with my butt cutlet but we were one! Locked in single combat.
As I sat, I pondered walking to my boss's office hunched over with my pants around my ankles and asking him to either assist me -- or let me go to Urgent Care and do you mind driving? He has a van. I even tried grabbing both sides of my ass cheeks and pulling them apart and bearing down. Apparently…Lady Luck was busy in the next stall.
This chunk of shit was holding me captive and I could not release the other chocolate hostages! I also had flashbacks of this being Elvis' last performance -- and his deathbed ended up being bathroom marble. We have linoleum at work. I was going to die on cheap linoleum! I figured it was a befitting end. Me and my over-sized butt gherkin in an eternal embrace. What would the mortician think? Would they have to lay me on my side in the casket? Would I now become the poster girl for Ex-Lax? "Don't let this happen to you – take Ex-Lax"…and a picture of me, dead on the bathroom floor…with a behemoth chuck of boo-boo protruding from my butt. Would they erect a Ronald McDonald House for Constipated Kids in my honor?
On the other hand, if I did manage to pass it, would it leave my asshole in tatters? Would I exit the bathroom with my over-stretched, shredded mucilaginous, intestines slung over one shoulder like a lariat trailing the tattered remnants of my colon with a sanguinary torn assmeat tip -- like a colorectal bridal train? Would a co-worker provide a helping hand and carry the train? Would I even have the balls to ask? When it came out would it give an audible pop like a champagne cork? Or would this be the fat man doing the cannonball into the pool? Maybe if I had some lubricant. Fuck…where am I going to find anal lubricant RIGHT NOW!?
Sigh. I just gave up and sat there. Waiting. Just like in the Wild, Wild, West of olden times. Me at one end of the lonely, tumbleweed-strewn, dusty, dirt road -- and my cowboy hat-wearing turd at the other. An old fashioned showdown with the theme from "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly" playing in the background. An ass off.
Then…I felt it. My ass infant moved. I began to squirm and shift side-to-side. I was 'The Little Engine That Could' chugging away…I think I can…I think I can…I know I can…I know I can…I KNOW…then it was over. No noise, no blood, no tearing asunder. I wiped. Nothing.
I was alone…(to be continued)
***The name has been changed to protect me from future litigation.