I guess getting something crammed up your ass is just a fact of life.
Pork Chop recently turned 40, and since Pork Chop’s dad died last year of colon cancer, Pork Chop’s wife made him go get a colonoscopy. Now, we all have to die of something. Pork Chop is thinking of going out the way the Good Doctor Hunter S. Thompson did—high, drunk and with a .45 causing mortal brain damage.
Because the stuff you have to drink the day before the procedure is terrible. Well, it doesn’t taste that terrible, but its effects are devastating, plus it’s oily in texture and you have to chug it every 15 minutes for about four hours and it makes you feel like you’re going to spray out your internal organs.
Before you start drinking this stuff, though, you have to take four laxatives. Four. That alone is enough to do two day’s worth of damage. Then, you drink a gallon of this mule piss, which makes you crap out everything you’ve eaten since you were 15 years old. By the end of the day, I could have shit through a screen door into a two liter bottle of Sprite. And towards the end of this awful callisthenic, when you wipe your ass, your hand is trembling because you know how much it’s going to hurt when you touch your bunghole for the 75th time that day. I mean, I thought I was starting my period.
Pork Chop’s wife and kid recently got a kitten and named her Scout. It’s from To Kill a Mockingbird. Read a book. Anyway, this cat loves to come into the bathroom when I’m pissing and stand on her back legs and look into the water. She appreciates the heavy sound of my ropey stream as much as the next animal, I guess. So this day before my colonoscopy, Scout is hanging around the bathroom a lot. I guess she mistook the sound of another 16 ounces of water squirting out of my ass for a good urine slash.
It was early evening and I was miserable, sitting on the can and flinching away from another wiping. But I did what was necessary and leaned over on my left ass cheek, because that’s the way normal right handed people wipe their asses, and Scout sneaks up from behind the commode and pokes her head between my cheek and the seat. But I didn’t know she was there. So when I reached back to wipe, instead of applying the Cottonelle to my sphincter, I grabbed the back of her head and wiped my asshole with her face. I’m still laughing about the look she had on her face. If a cat can be appalled, she was.
Pork Chop Out