fire in the hole
It’s a source of constant amazement to me that one minute I can be working with a sophisticated piece of technology and then a moment later I can be completely devoid of any discernible amount of decision-making skills. Behaving like an animal. Primal.
Take for instance my ass.
It’s been itching up a storm recently. A relentless itch, an itch that seems to have a purpose. It’s been slowly spreading and now when I bend over to examine the area I see raised areas and some flaking. The bumps aren’t red so I don’t think it’s a rash and there is no oozing of any sort so it’s probably not an infection. But it’s definitely spreading and getting worse so the only thing I can think of is that I have some sort of fungus growing in my ass. I’m not that familiar with what fungus looks like, I’m assuming that it doesn’t have to be green and/or plant-like in appearance, but my gut tells me that’s what is going on downstairs. And my gut is only a few feet away from the trouble so I’m going to trust it.
Here’s the part that amazes me; even though I am fully aware that what I’m doing is probably not a great way to solve my problem I keep doing it nonetheless.
What am I doing you ask? Every morning I wake up and the itching is unbearable so I go to the medicine cabinet and slather the area in something new to try and kill the fungus. Now before you laugh try to follow my logic at the time. If I were to buy a few barrels of denatonium benzoate and poured it all over my lawn the grass would certainly die. Well that’s one of the ingredients found in the astringent that I soaked the cotton ball in before I shoved it up my ass so it follows that fungus is a plant and a plant will die if it comes into contact with denatonium benzoate right? And don’t think I leapt right into such extreme measures. I tried acne cream, hydrogen peroxide and baby powder. Nothing worked. You also have to appreciate the mood I’m in every morning when I wake up to find my asshole still itching. I’m raged. Every night I go to sleep thinking that this is the night that whatever I shoved up my ass the previous day is sure to have killed the fungus only to awaken to the reality that not only is the fungus alive and well but it has spread and seems oblivious to the chemical warfare I have inflicted upon it. I have some super-strain of bacteria growing between my cheeks and there seems fuck all I can do it about it.
I’ve tried Jack Daniels, Mr. Clean and Liquid Plumber and all I get is a fiery bung.
I am a man who owns a computer, a cell phones and a Kindle. I am completely at ease in the 21st Century, a man who can interact with the latest advances in science and medicine with a calm and confident demeanor. Then, still clutching one of the aforementioned devices in the other hand, I will scratch my ass with such ferocity that I will leave a shit stain on the outside of my jeans. I’m still not sure of the physics involved with having a finger seemingly protected by a layer of underwear and a layer of jeans still coming out of the expedition needing to be washed off. Do shit molecules pass through these barriers on some subatomic level and attach themselves to my finger somehow?
This is now my daily existence. Wake up with a burning bleeding asshole. Apply something from the hall closet that I haven’t tried yet like toothpaste in the hopes that the fungus is plague-based. Have lunch, change underpants and go out to the garage to try something stronger like gasoline or Raid. Apply to my purple anus. Have dinner, change underpants, do a load of laundry made up primarily of soiled underpants, go to the local Home & Garden store to buy weed killer and rat poison. Apply to my leathery anus. Sneak out of house in the middle of the night to visit a buddy who knows this guy who used to be black ops. Purchase quantity of Semtex. Just in case.
I am a homeowner, a tax payer and someone not opposed to pulling in to have his car washed by whatever fundraiser has set up shop across the street from where the old donut place use to be. I vote. I’d give blood if I wasn’t afraid of needles. Do you understand? I don’t deserve this itching asshole.
The end comes soon. We hear drums, drums in the deep. They are coming.