I've dated this wonderful girl for 4.5 years now; we've been engaged for the last eighteen months. She is currently living back with her parents, as her job is close to home and pays great, and she's saving up because she's footing the bill for most of the wedding
I've stayed with her folks innumerable times in the last four-and-a-half years, and something about their bathroom has always struck me as odd. But I could never put my finger on it. Bear in mind that I'm a bit of a poop-ophile -- nothing feels as good as a healthy dump, so I know the territory.
Well, imagine my surprise when just last weekend I'm sitting on their porcelain-joy-chair, reading a magazine, when the haunting misgiving I'd had for nearly five years rears up and slaps me (metaphorically) in the ass: there, in the same little container as the ubiquitous toilet brush is a paint stirring stick. Once I actually saw it, I knew that that was the irregularity in the room where one goes to be regular.
Her step-dad is quite the handyman, but still, even if you repainted the bathroom often, storing a stir-stick there was, well, unusual. I asked my Fiancé about this, and she got mad. Not angry mad, but defensive mad, which of course piqued my curiosity. So I proffered what I thought was its purpose, suggesting she could merely confirm or deny my suspicions. Therein I learned the truth:
We've all read stories about the need to break the log jam with an object -- be it a coat-hanger, the toilet brush, or in some stories here, the human hand itself. Well, it seems that my Fiancé's younger brother (now 18) has the sorry affliction of periodically birthing mother-loving Herculean butt-dumplings. After numerous plungings, her aforementioned creative handy-man step-dad took a stirrer, coated it with the same latex paint that was used on the bathroom walls (for cosmetic reasons, and for the fact that latex is impermeable to water -- and water soluble, ahem, offal), and placed it with the other necessary toilet-maintaining accoutrement.
I thought it was hysterical; ingeniously so. Here, in plain view of one and all is the ultimate poop prod, the paramount shit stick, the sought after turd terminator -- and it's a beautiful baby blue. If only everyone knew that this baby blue wand was also the executioner's sword of those bungling butt bombs, maybe someone would market it. As it stands now though, unused while the perpetrator is living on his own, it's a painful scar on this family's psyche; a reminder of troubles past, a talisman of turd-trouble to come. Reminds me of Excalibur, from "The Sword In the Stone", but sadly, I was prohibited from taking any pictures. Maybe next time.
-- Dave J