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A Story -- Fine, Let Us Continue

There are a number of different ways to poop. I don't know if it's eight or 33 or how many, but it's not a uniform act. Sometimes you're running the ice cream machine at Plaid Pantry. Other times, you're squeezing tennis balls out of a new tube sock. There are a number of different ways to poop. This story is about one of them.

LOOK. This is not going to be a polite story. I will be frank, because only frankness is worthwhile here. Go read Cute Overload, you don't like it.

On a sunny day in January, I popped home for an ordinary lunch of bean and cheese burritos and probably a carrot. After some light digestion over the noontime Perry Mason broadcast, I headed on back to the office, a bit too full but otherwise content.

Returning to the clamor of notes and files on my desk, which I had abandoned mid-flail, Flintstone style, at the sounding of the town's noon bell, I called my brain back to order and picked up my pen, and then the news came.

I had to go doo doo.

Every time this happens right after lunch, I do the following catechism:

• First, Can it wait five hours? {If the answer is NO, continue to}


• Second, Is it worth going right back home for? {If the answer is NO, continue to}


• Third, Duuuuuuuude, AGAIN? {If the answer is YES, go to the bathroom.}

This day, the catechism led me to the bathroom. It was urgent, but didn't seem too threatening. The key to the second question is whether I think the noise can be contained. My sensors were telling me that this was the sort that feels like you're trying to hold a gallon of water in an upside-down trashbag by holding the drawstring taut. Its departure would likely be relatively quick; the key would be to maintain a steady release of pressure while remaining vigilant to potential gas eruptions.

I proceeded to the bathroom. Assuming the position, I sat and listened to the tappity-tap of my coworker typing in her office twenty feet away, and waited.

Posted by FLOG at April 19, 2007 6:51 PM | TrackBack