Most people call it anus, I call it AntiChrist.
Granted, it serves the purpose of evacuating the waste material my body produces, so it has a useful function.
But it seems to have a mind of its own, it controls me totally, and I am powerless to overcome it.
Case Number One: Ten thirty at night. I take my drinking glass out to the kitchen and rinse it, leaving it on the bench to be cleaned properly in the morning. I head through the quiet and mostly dark house to the toilet, thinking of having one last pee before going out to bed. Yawning, I pause in my wandering, remembering a programme that I love is about to start. I debate turning the tv back on, but suddenly have the urge to poo. Well, maybe I can watch part of the programme, check out if it's a repeat or not. So I head towards the lounge. Two steps away from the tv, the urge to poo becomes an emergency situation, where if I don't get there, in the next three seconds, there's going to be some carpet cleaning needed. So I forget about the tv show, and race off to the toilet. Right at this moment, the AntiChrist has won. The message goes out to the troops. "Righto boys, we have got her here now, so take your time. You there, don't rush. Have a cuppa, and read a magazine on the way out, she's in no hurry!"
I spend the next hour or so, staring at the walls, cursing the AntiChrist, and getting to know every inch of my colon as the poo slowly makes its way out. Or gets mostly out, and the AntiChrist decides to shut it down, and it just sits there, not stuck, just not moving. Bear in mind, it's now about quarter past eleven, and I am almost asleep while I sit there. I rock back and forward, push, grunt and sweat, all to no avail. The AntiChrist has decided there will be no movement and that is all there is to it.
I decide that's it, time for bed. I'll just get off and go to bed, it can wait till morning. Oops, it's moving. Ok I will stay here a bit more. Nope, it's stopped again. Come on, this is getting beyond a joke now. Half past eleven, I was going to bed an hour ago.
Then, finally, there's movement, and it is chased out by a satisfied grunt as it leaves. Then the clean up. After all that effort, there is nothing on the toilet paper, there is absolutely nothing to show for all my efforts, and my pride in finally shifting the colon blocker is diminished to nothing by the AntiChrist, who is back there having a chuckle, knowing that even though it got cleared out, it still won.
Case Number Two: I woke up, showered, made the child's breakfast, made her lunch for school, finished dressing myself, took her to school, came home for my own breakfast, checked emails, visited my website to check for new members, and decided that it was time to get out of the house for a while. So I get organised to go shopping, check that everything I need is in my purse, and looking at the time, I realise that the next bus to the local shopping centre leaves in ten minutes. I pick up my house keys, lock the back door, shut the windows, spray on some perfume, and suddenly the AntiChrist decides that I need to poo. NOW!
Not wanting to get caught with stomach cramps on the bus, I give in to the AntiChrist, and head off to the toilet. It's the complete opposite to the middle of the night one. Which is good speed wise, since the bus time is getting ever closer. But now, I stink like poo, not perfume, and I have an even bigger problem. It's not a Ghost Poo like in the first case. This one, is halfway up my back, there's bugger all toilet paper, and the bus is gaining ground. Rush rush rush, hear the bus coming down the hill, I have a minute and a half tops. Ok, I thnk I'm clean. Right, time to get up. Flush, wash hands, grab the keys and head out to the oh god I have to go again. Bus, or house. Which is it to be? Um.... um.... shit, now what ....... I see the bus........get on the bus and try not to move as much as I can help it. How the hell am I gonna get from the bus to the mall? Made it to the mall, get off the bus and there is a supermarket trolley waiting right there. Nice. I grab that, and lean over it as I walk into the mall. I get to the alleyway where the toilets are, and suddenly I don't have to go any more. What? Are you frickin kidding me? After all that pain? I will try anyway.
Get into the mall toilets, and sure enough, I don't have to go. Yet again, the AntiChrist wins.
Am I the only one who houses the AntiChrist on their person? Or do other people out there have the same kinds of things happen to them?
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