Pain in the Ass

April 22, 2010

Okay, I admit it. Even Mr. Ass gets in trouble now and then. For the past few weeks, I’ve felt like there’s a gerbil in my butt. And when I finally broke the news to my wife that my ass hurts and I might have colon cancer and what will she do after I’m gone, she laughed at me! Only hemorrhoids, my ass! I asked her to keep quiet about it and she kindly went out for me the next day and bought a box of these little gems at the pharmacy because I didn’t want to do it; standing in line at the grocery store with a box of suppositories in my hand is akin to buying enemas or feminine hygiene products: forget it. So after she came home and told my son, my daughter, her sister, my grandson, and the neighbor why I’d been cranky lately and then showing everyone the box, she discreetly placed them on the back of the toilet tank and said go for it, stud. Let me tell you, I read the directions three times just to make sure I was doing it right, but it didn’t matter; inserting one of these beauties is a little like shoving a piece of firewood up your butt. Ouch!

The good news is that I now feel better, just in time for a six-hour drive to San Diego. But the experience has made me wonder what’s in store as I get older; the human body is sometimes an unworthy vessel for intellect such as mine.

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