Last Saturday, while reading the morning paper and drinking a cup of coffee, I felt the urge to drop the kids off at the pool; so with the sports section under my arm, I headed to the bathroom. I felt neither an alarm, nor a sudden urge. The timing was normal. I wasn’t backed up.
With the sports section as my scepter and a John Deere ball cap atop my head for a crown, I sat on my throne in order to exercise my reign over my brown dominion. I felt the initial stretching of my rectum as a grogan entered launch phase. That stretching was dangerously brief, and it was followed by a feeling of pain and panic as said grogan fully entered the "Battle of the Rectum Pass". This torpedo was much too large in girth for a normal passage. It felt stuck in the breech as my rectum protested the violation being visited upon it.
Intense pain came from nowhere. I was not prepared for such a violent rebellion from my brown subjects. I knew I was beyond the point of no return; yet even as the pain increased, I pushed to free the beast, weakly hoping for relief. What seemed like an eternity probably only lasted a minute, and the beast passed the Rectumus Pass to drop into the pool of Tranquility for inspection. My legs felt weak from passing the great one. I felt compelled to gaze upon the mighty beast that had nearly finished me and so looked into the bowl, noting my enemy with respect.
It was not very long by epic standards, but Its girth was enormous. Almost flat at the front, It was as big around as a soda can
in the middle and tapered gradually at the rear. The damn thing looked like an upside-down glass jar of Yoo-hoo chocolate drink! My rectum was winking from the relief and strain of passing such an enormous enemy. I gingerly wiped, and then gingerly wiped again, yet I couldn't get clean!
I waddled to the closet with my pants around my ankles, grabbed a baby wipe, and attempted to clean myself. No luck; no matter what I did, a brown spot appeared on my wipe. I realized that the problem wasn't my hygiene but that my rectum would not fully close the gates of Fort Shitsuvius. The Evil One's enormous girth had compromised my turd gate defenses; I had a breach in my turd dam that wouldn’t, couldn’t close. I did my best to clean most of the poo and
pulled my drawers up.
For the rest of the day, I returned to the throne to clean around the battlefield on half-hour intervals and checked the gates of my fort. I'd wipe with a baby wipe to see if the gates had closed yet but found a brown spot as my indication of failure.
Finally, in the evening, my rectum was once again able to close enough for a clean pass of the baby wipe. Sunday's load was normal, no strain, no sweat.
During the week my brown battle usually waits until I'm at work. I arrive, drink a second cup of coffee and then evict the next set of brown tenants from my shit apartment in our workplace facility. This morning I went to deliver my eviction notice as usual but was met with a tenant almost the size of Saturday's Surprise. The eviction notice was eventually served, but the remnants I fear are the same as Saturday's; my shit fortress has a breech.
Why in the world am I passing beer can-size turds? My diet is the same, I’m hydrated, and I’m as regular as taxes. Any insight would be helpful.
