For a long time, garlic was one of my favorite meal additives. I used to put it in lasagna, alfredo, shrimp dishes, whatever. Now, whenever I even smell garlic, I get violently nauseous. I can't even go to the Olive Garden anymore -- and it used to be one of my favorite restaurants.
It all started last year when my wife threw a dinner party for her friends. She prepared this delicious appetizer that consisted of olive oil, French bread, cheese, and an elephant garlic bulb. Now, an elephant garlic bulb is huge compared to a regular bulb of garlic, but it possesses a much milder taste. But I didn't know that, and she didn't mention it. My wife cut off the top of the bulb, poured olive oil over the exposed cloves, and baked for one hour. The cloves turned into soft, spreadable garlic goodness which could be spread on a piece of French bread with cheese. I ate most of it and enjoyed every bite.
Jump ahead three months. I was pretty hungry, and I kept on remembering how delicious the roasted garlic spread was. I'm no cook, but the dish is easy, so I thought "what the heck" and went into the kitchen in search of a garlic bulb.
As you read above, I was not aware that there was a taste difference between elephant and regular garlic bulbs. When I reached for a regular bulb in the kitchen that day, I had no idea what my colon would have in store for me later.
After one hour of baking, I opened the oven door and beheld a beautiful garlic, roasted to golden brown perfection. I rushed it and a loaf of French bread to the living room in hurried anticipation of my treat. I turned on the TV and spread my first scoop onto the bread. Strange, I though to myself, as I hadn't remembered the garlic being so potent when my wife made it. It burned my tongue; but, being an avid garlic lover, I kept plowing, and within twenty minutes had consumed my meal. A few minutes later I let a huge belch, and the smell almost took me aback.
More time passed and I began to feel uneasy, like one would in the moments before being hit by the flu. I was not nauseous, but something was definitely wrong.
Then I felt it. A powerful churning deep within my lower abdomen; then, intense pressure upon my anus. At this point I was not sure if I had to crap or if it was just gas. I decided to do a test release to find out. I relaxed my sphincter muscles felt a hot blast of fart burst forth. No noise, just the semi-silence of a summer breeze. Except this smelled like no summer breeze I've ever experienced -- 95% garlic, 5% crap.
While I was still reeling from the first blast, I had to fart again, and more silencers ripped forth. It was honestly the worst smell I have EVER experienced in my life. My eyes were burning after being violated by this anally-born garlic-infused mushroom cloud. I opened up the window and flapped a towel around to encourage the smells to leave. But it wasn't going to happen. The rip was hot and dense, and it hung there over my La-Z-Boy with no intentions of going anywhere.
After about two hours of one-after-the-other hot silencers that left my pucker with second-degree burns, I felt liquid slam against my opening like the kind of tsunami that can wipe out an entire island village. I knew I had only ten seconds or so left of clenching my crap muscles before I let go; I haven't shit my pants since grade school, and I was not about to start now. I barreled into the bathroom, my shoulder slammed the door open like a three hundred pound linebacker.
Now it was time to negotiate The Turn. The Turn is a move that involves simultaneously 1) approaching the toilet; 2) beginning the body turn to position one's anus toward the toilet; 3) hooking one's fingers into one's waistline; 4) and pulling down the pants while 5) beginning to squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of crap at the exact second that one's butt lands on the toilet seat. It is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.
Just as my ass slammed down on the seat, a boiling shit stream shot out of my already severely burned anus. Horrible cramping ensued, and the streams of liquid garlic kept shooting out. The smell was so revolting that I almost vomited into my lap. Every time I thought I was done, another tidal wave of shit would burst through the dam.
When the onslaught was finally over, I rubbed cortisone and pressed a cold wet washcloth between my butt cheeks to soothe my battered pucker, still in critical condition. I had trouble walking for the next two days, and my wife complained that it took over a week for the garlic smell to fade from our living room and bathroom.
-- Brad Schitt
