Delivery in Thirty Minutes
Editor's Note: I don't often publish stories this short, but the point this one makes is well worth your consideration.
I have some knowledge of the inner workings of my digestive tract, so I read some of these poop reports with a grain of salt. You know the ones I'm talking about: "I ate mass quantities and twenty minutes later, oh my God!!" If I remember my biology correctly, I have about forty feet of intestine for food to go through after it has spent roughly an hour in my stomach. So I would have called these authors liars, except -- dum da dum dum! -- it happened to me.
It's hot here in Lake Havasu City, and in this heat eating becomes a chore. Now, I love to eat, and I have a good steady metabolism, but I had gone about a day and a half without eating much more than a bologna sandwich. I ended my pseudo-fast with my wife, who had prepared a delicious spinach chef's salad. I scarfed two plates' full and sat back to watch wrestling this particular Monday night. All was well and The Undertaker was kicking butt when, suddenly, so was the spinach.
There was no time to contemplate whether a squeeze would hold off this vegetative onslaught -- I was cramping, bad. My face flushed and my wife said something like, "Are you all---" I didn't stick around to hear the rest. I have never covered the thirty feet to the biffy so fast. My shorts hit the floor and I was about to rest my posterior on the throne when all hell broke loose.
Any of you familiar with the old "Polish cannon"? A simple device made to launch potatoes or tennis balls long distances, built using a length of pipe and some gas. I couldn't help but think of that veggie tosser as I tossed mine out the back door.
After twenty minutes of "grin and bear it" I stood to see what had done this to me at this odd hour. (I am clockwork, 8:00 AM, everyday.) There -- looking much like it had on my plate -- was my salad, each spinach leaf basically intact. (I don't chew so much as inhale.) I was astounded!!!
Had it not happened to me, I would have said it takes at LEAST twelve hours for food to get all the way through you; but I swear, and my wife will back it up -- I had to show her, just as I show her most of my odd, or momentous, poops -- it was only twenty to thirty minutes. Perhaps the Poonurse can explain this?