adventures in wiping
Anyone who sees a story with the word “wiping” in the title is automatically going to think that it has to do with wiping your ass after a bowel movement. That’s where the witty writer will then dash your expectations and write about something completely unrelated and you’ll feel all “you got me there, you witty writer!”
I am not a witty writer.
This story is about wiping my ass after a bowel movement so you can put away your shocked “you got me there” face.
But it’s true at least. It’s got that going for it.
So I’m sitting there- there obviously meaning the toilet (if I have to explain that after spending so much time going over the fact that this story is about wiping my ass, I don’t think there’s much hope for you as a reader and this is probably exactly the type of material you should stick to) – and I’m about to get started with the paperwork- the paperwork meaning toilet paper (again …) – when I looked around at the breathtaking array of hair surrounding the toilet. It looked like someone dropped their stole -stole meaning a mink shawl commonly worn around the shoulder area and in no way indicating that anyone would have the slightest inclination to steal the hair surrounding the toilet (do I even need these parentheses?) – which should be obvious because I used the word as a noun for Christ’s sake.
Being bored, I ran my hand around the toilet and scooped up a fistful of the nastiest shit you can imagine. I’m certain that this is what passes for a toupee in hell. Disgusted, I dropped it between my legs into the toilet and then stood up to begin the wiping process.
I should have paid more attention.
You see, the hair, sharing a surprising number of similarities to Velcro, didn’t just fall helplessly into the water but instead latched onto one of the hairs on my balls and hung on for dear life. Not having witnesses to what transpired after that I can only piece together the mystery from when I became aware that I had a situation, and by situation I mean a shitty situation.
And by shitty situation I mean a situation involving shit.
I wiped without a care in the world, completely unaware that that hairball hanging between my legs was then scooped up and dragged through my fecal-soiled ass cheeks. Are you getting the mechanics of what took place?
When I finished I released the wad of toilet paper but did not hear the usual splash. How could I? While free of my hands it did for a brief moment come under the influence of gravity and begin its downward descent but soon thereafter fell prey to the sticky clutches of the protruding hairball sticking out of my ass and then just hung there.
For a moment I stood perplexed. Well, I was slightly crouched but when you’re perplexed it’s often easier just to say you stood perplexed than crouched perplexed. I stared ahead as if I was on a sitcom knowing full well that this little scene would not soon be making it into a sitcom. Had it though I’m sure the adorable look etched on my face would make me an instant celebrity.
I wondered to myself where the splash was. I took a quick look downstairs for answers. Answers that shocked me to my core.
I realize that these last few sentences were written as if I was the central character in a hard-hitting news programs but again, I don’t think the subject matter would be appropriate for 60 Minutes.
A small gasp escaped my lips as I stared down at this mess hanging out of my ass. So shaken was I that I did what any other reasonable person would do. I started to sway back and forth to see if it, it being the toilet paper, would hold on.
The hair was rammed into the mess that was my ass pretty good and holding up toilet paper was clearly no challenge for something with such impressive tensile strength. I got it swinging back and forth to the point it was bouncing off each leg. I hopped up and down but the adhesive qualities of shit are not to be underestimated. Try as I might I could not shake the toilet paper off.
I even tried doing a few sumo stomps. Guttural noises and all.
No luck but it did give me the opportunity to note that doing a sumo stomp is more fun than you remember and I should really be doing more of them.
I’d like to tell you that I was eventually able to pull off the toilet paper and then extricate the ball of hair from my ass without incident but I don’t think anyone, let alone a person who demonstrates such a keen intellect as to be reading this story in the first place, would believe that for a minute. I got shit all over my hands before I was done. And on my legs.
And it took a long shower to finally hunt down and eradicate the rogue pubic hairs that had been wiped halfway up my colon and decided they liked it enough to set up shop there.
Like Milton Friedman, noted statistician and recipient of the Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences, always used to say “if you’re going to clean the toilet, don’t be on the toilet.”