Wednesday, May 1

A BASKIN ROBBINS SUMMER (Part VI of ? Please read from Part I)
!!!!! WARNING!!!! The following two or three posts may be too graphic for young readers !!!!!!
mothers, fathers, do YOU know what your kids are watching and reading?
(if there was ever any girl that liked me, she won't after this post. it's a sacrifice, to give up that hopeful possibility, but i have to be faithful to true events.)

At the end of the seventh day, I could take no more. Dull vision and ploddy, drunken-like steps somehow took me to the outhouse. I smelled the stench even from the outside, but I didn’t care anymore. I pulled my pants down, squatted over the hole, and let go.

Except nothing came out. I executed the Valsalva maneuver with as much force as I could muster. Slowly, a huge monster of a log crept out at a crippled ant’s pace. My anus was stretched to its limits. I ran out of force, with only two inches of the log out. I had pushed the air out of my lungs to generate force, and I was desperately in need of air. I could not resist any longer, and took a deep breath. I nearly fainted from the fumes. Strangely, the odor of my own excrement was like a reassuring barrier and refuge against the strange, concentrated, and rotten smell of the outhouse. With that, I resumed my efforts. Somehow, with several long pushes, the log finally came through, and landed with a loud plop onto the murky depths below. I am ready to claim with honest and firm belief that the log was surely 1 foot long, and perhaps four inches in diameter. The weight of the log was such that it pulled the last of itself out of me, without any Valsalva assistance. It left a strange empty feeling in me. I was sweating with the effort, and lifted a quick prayer of thanksgiving that I was still alive after the ordeal. There were moments during the battle when even that did not seem a sure thing. I wiped my anus which had surely been through the most trying time of its career, and rose to get up. Little did I know.

As I stood up, there was a strange movement from within. Surely not? My brain could not process what my bowels were telling me. My bowels were ready to roll again, while my brain said that there could not possibly be any more. My bowels won, and I squatted again.

Feces of a much more familiar consistency followed the path of its very unrighteous brother. It was of normal color, normal consistency, and of normal diameter. My sphincter appreciated that quite a bit. Two logs of appreciable length. I proceeded to wipe.

Midway through my second wipe, a loud growl emerged the depths of my abdomen, and a sudden urge overcame me. The urge quickly became pain, and I squatted yet once again. A hot, acidic diarrhea propelled out of my bowels. The acid felt as though it were burning through the delicate mucous membranes, and scalding my perianal area. I cried out to my dear God, because it was a pain like no other. I asked Him to take it away, to stop the pain. I squealed inside as pigs do when they are branded with a hot iron. Close to a liter of diarrhea had burned its way out. Below, I could see the violence splattered over the white of the toilet paper I had used. But before I could even think about the funky pattern below, a different wave of muscle contraction seized me. I was too exhausted to resist the convulsive contractions within and without. My muscles ejected squirt after squirt of a clear substance, similar to a mix between mucus and water. I was so tired, I just let my body do what it had to do. At this point, I was ready to just lie down there.

I rested in the ah juh shi squat (old Korean man style). I don’t know how long. Time held no meaning for such an experience.


yakob at 1:35 PM

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