  A bug hitched a ride on something I ate last week and set up shop in my lower GI tract turning solids into liquids. A day of the runs is nothing to worry about, it's even something you might ignore completely, but after three days, you start to wonder.
I bought some of the medication i’ve heard on commercials all my life, names that were familiar to me in a vague sort of way but nothing I had ever given any thought to until now. Now I was rocking back and forth in wallgreens trying to strengthening my ass cheeks and praying to God (who's got better things to worry about I'm told) that if I could just hold off another twenty minutes I'd give up smoking and be a better person and why the fuck did you make those little bugs anyway? Hunh?! Mylanta, Immodium AD, pepto-bismal. Chewable tablets and liquid form, I took them all but nothing worked. I started to hover around the bathroom, reading a book and waiting for the inevitable, the gurgling noises and the sudden warm drop at the door of my ass, the last chance to get in there and go again or i'd ruin another pair of shorts. ( Yes another. I'd ruined one pair at the beginning of this odyssey when what I thought was a harmless gas bubble yearning to be free was made up of more than just gas. ) I'd gone five days of this before I grew concerned enough to seek professional help. So I called my mom who said to eat bananas and bread. "Try to clump things up " was her advice. It didn't sound very scientific but what the hell, she's a nurse and raised four kids, she's probably seen this before. So I ate only bread and bananas and, sure enough, shat bread and bananas along with more fluid than I thought I had in me.
( The human body is amazing. It produces far more than it ever takes in, kind of like perpetual motion. No matter how long i starved myself for, I'd still produce! If only it could be converted to energy) My ass was raw from wiping. I could feel my heartbeat in my sphincter like you would feel in your thumb after hitting it with a hammer. I called and made an appointment with a doctor. I'd hoped that after giving her a detailed account of what I'd been going thru she could just scribble out a prescription and that would be that.
Not so. "Strip from your waist down" She said. I protested but it was no use, she wanted to see my ass. My raw, chapped ass and besides, she's seen more asses than I would believe. I believed her, i just didn't want to show it to her. I knew she'd poke around and I was really fine with being examined, I was just terrified of what would happen if she prodded too far.
My greatest fear was letting lose and spraying the poor woman. It wasn't unfounded. I knew just how little pressure it took to open the floodgates and I was afraid that she might activate it. Luckily, no such thing happened. I rolled on my side, she spread and gently, gently prodded. "Hmmm, you ARE raw...and I see an old fissure too.
" A fissure? A FISSURE? How the hell did I get that? She assured me that it was common for someone at my age to have such things but I felt I had to tell her that I wasn't the type of person to put things in my ass, if that's what she was thinking. She wasn't. She gave me a script, fourteen pills of some kind of antibiotic and I drove home riding sidesaddle. That was yesterday and I'm still waiting for the pills to work. 
