Over the last few weeks many of my family members, friends, and co-workers have had the flu. In many cases, of course, this included diarrhea. I have been lucky enough to remain healthy -- that is, until yesterday. Although I am not absolutely positive that I caught a bug or if it was something I ate; the intestinal jury is still deliberating.

My average weekday goes as follows: get up, take a dump, go to work, come home, take a dump, drink beer, eat dinner, and then pass out in front of TV. But yesterday was different: at seven PM I had to watch my daughter sing at her fourth grade Christmas Concert at the local high school.

The workday went like any other day. At 12:30 I got take-out from the wine bar down the street: a turkey wrap with fries and mayo on the side. Tasted good. By 4:00 I was feeling mighty gassy. I didn't really have to shit so I just let off some rancid steam that calmed the rumbling. I usually work until 5:30, but around 5:00 I was bored and had nothing to do. I figured I would go kill some time talking to some coworkers in another office. When I got there this woman started forcing me to try the homemade fudge and cookies that she had brought in. I was hungry and knew I wouldn't eat dinner until late after the concert, so I indulged. Tasted good.

At 5:30 I put on my coat and headed out into the twenty-degree air for my three-minute walk to the parking garage. I don't know if it was the temperature change or what but I got a sudden urge to shit. I almost turned back, but figured I could make the 30-40 minute ride home. I didn't want to be late for the concert. Hell, I'm a professional Shameful Shitter -- I've held endless loads.

But the three flights of stairs I climbed to get to my car in the garage seemed to shake this load of poop even more; and I once again considered running back to the office. But I didn't.

As I pulled into traffic and began my 10-15 minute bumper-to-bumper wait to get on to the freeway, my stomach was cramping something fierce. The pain was intense. I clenched my ass cheeks with all my might -- I could feel the download commencing. I cursed myself for not shitting at the office, but there was no turning back now -- I was almost on the freeway. I knew there was a Burger King at my freeway exit and I developed a plan to rid myself of this nasty load when I got to that point.

But then, suddenly, I was able to eek out a weak fart. The load shifted and the pain was gone. I still felt like I had a bowling ball in my colon, but the cramps stopped. I actually made it all the way home.

I am convinced my asshole has a mind of its own, because as soon as I pulled into the driveway it knew it was home and it started to go to work. I ran into the house, threw off my coat, and ran to the upstairs toilet, pushing aside anyone and everything that was in my path. When I reached the toilet I could feel my fecal baby starting to exit my body as I tugged at my belt. I ripped my pants down at lightning speed and then, even while I was still half-standing, heard my solid logs hitting the water like a massive brown avalanche. It was over as fast as it began; I just sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the relief and odor.

I got up and looked in the bowl that was totally full of rancid excrement. I quickly flushed it away and sat back down -- my stomach still felt crampy. But after a few minutes I gave up on waiting for an encore, wiped, and exited the bathroom.

My parents were at my house -- they also were going to the concert. My father started bitching about all the ice on my outside steps. I went to the garage to get some ice melt and two minutes into spreading it on the steps, a severe cramp hit me.

This time I ran to the downstairs shitter. As soon as my naked ass hit that cold porcelain, hot burning liquid shit tore from my rectum. I didn't feel like I had the flu and wondered if that bitch at work put laxatives in the fudge. Or was that side of mayo spoiled?

I felt a little better after this watery explosion and it was time to go the high school for the show. Once we got there my stomach was doing flip-flops; I just wanted to go home and lay on my couch. I choose an aisle seat in the auditorium, sensing that a run for the pot could be necessary.

The show started promptly at seven. I was doing okay, happily videotaping the show, when I realized I wasn't going to make it to the end without blasting off another round. About 7:30 I was fast-walking to the high school boy's bathroom -- a place I never could bring myself to shit twenty-five years earlier when I was in school. Once I entered this place I remembered why.

The bathroom was yet to be cleaned after a full school day of terrorism. It was a four stall, four urinal, four sink setup. Stall one: broken door and filthy as fuck. Stall two: actually clean, surprise surprise, but no door. Stall three: a working, locking door, but filled to the rim with paper and human waste. Stall four: a broken door with a dirty seat. But by this point my asshole was again thinking for itself and it choose number four.

Another mighty hot load of liquid lava left my tortured innards. I wiped with the sandpaper toilet tissue and went to go wash my hands. Two mirrors were broken, the water was cold, there were no paper towels, and even the air coming from the hand dryer was cold. My city taxes keep going up as these school levies keep passing... where is my money going?

I made it back to the auditorium for the last song, happy that it was time to go home. During the trip home I was worried I wouldn't make it without another bowel attack; and to make the ride worse, my father tortured me further with his banter -- first a story about the time he got sick eating an old can of chili, and then his concerns about the possibility of having to shit on the airplane during his upcoming trip to Arizona next month.

I made it home and released one more slimy load before going to bed -- without dinner. I woke up this morning and took a semi-solid dump. I feel pretty good, so I don't think I have the flu. Now I am just sitting here at work thinking, "Where should I go for lunch?"