Atomic Poop

So I'm really not sure what's wrong with me, but I know it's something bad. No, it's worse than bad, it's goddamn awful. There is little doubt in my mind that I have contracted some mutated strain of killer Central African mosquito virus. It's like West Nile for my colon. The symptoms, however, are far worse than any ordinary fever.

I first noticed something was wrong last night when my ass kept itching. Not my ass cheeks, mind you, rather the magnificent brown hole, itself, kept grabbing my attention. It was like something was trying to tickle me from the inside out... of my ass. Being a man, I chose to ignore the urge to rub my sore little asshole... no, no amount of pain or torture could get me to peruse down in those nether-regions. That's what I thought, anyway.

This morning I woke up with the same sort of itching... just dying for me to scratch... to stink up my hand. Once again, my manhood came through for me and I chose to go running instead. What I didn't know was the trap that my body had laid out for me in the middle of my run. I was going along, pissed off that it was 5am and I was the only person awake that wasn't drunk and running from the cops. I was running past one of the many abandoned houses in Terre Haute when what can only be described as pure horror descended upon my body. My entire stomach and intestines seemed to twist inside of me. With each little jog of my body I was literally playing with my own fate. At any moment the up-and-down motion of my run could set me off to explode straight into my pants. There was a quivering and I immediately stopped.

I stood there, roughly half a mile from home, wondering what to do. I had two options - run like hell, tempting fate the entire way, or find a conveniently placed bush with which I could expunge the black sludge that was trying to trickle out of my ass. Fearing that it would land on the back of my legs and smell for the rest of the day, I chose plan A. I darted off in the direction of home... up a hill, down the street... over the broken pieces of sidewalk and past the friendly hobo that lives at the church's 24 hour prayer door where he hands out hand jobs like pieces of candy on Halloween. No time for that today, Mr. Hobo... I've got an emergency. I actually contemplated defecating in his house, but realized that I didn't need a dirty homeless guy and God pissed at me.

I could see the house getting closer, only half a block away. I darted over a semi-shrub that lives in the sidewalk and ran through a crater next to the abandoned house. Around the fence and up our porch steps. Here I had to slow down and use every bit of energy to keep those puppies clenched. How would I explain to our neighbors upstairs the large and foul smelling pile of crap that appeared next to their door? Actually, it would be pretty funny to poop in their mailbox and watch them reach down to get the mail and instead come back with a handful of Ryan poop... but I digress...

So I did the "I gotta shit" waddle into the house, half breathless and mostly sweaty. I waddled my ass straight to the toilet with just enough time to get my pants down half way... (I'm pretty sure that had they not been draw string basketball shorts I would have pooped myself. And while I am not a novice in the pooping oneself area, it still would have sucked.... balls)

What exploded from my ass was a greater victory than the US over the Japanese at Hiroshima. It was for me a more glorious event and probably would have killed just as many Asians. I could feel my muscles relaxing and my breathing slowed. Then I had to deal with the ungodly awful smell, but anything was better than pooping on myself with runny, black poo goo.

comments? anyone?