Better

Wow, was I ever sick. It came on Saturday afternoon and I'm just feeling better this morning. Lu and I both believe it's the sickest I've ever been. I think it was the stomach flu and, trust me on this, you don't want it.

ShoulderAngel6 here. Sorry but I need to interrupt here. Don't read any more. Seriously. Just take it as he was sick and go on about your day. Nothing to see here. Move along. Move along.

ShoulderDevil6 here. Don't listen to that guy. Go ahead. Read the whole thing. Don't be a sissy.
SA6. Shut up knucklehead. You know what he talks about and it's not fit for public consumption. Why anyone would actually put that kind of thing down in words for others to see and read is quite beyond me. Quite.

SD6. Knucklehead. Oh, that's nice. Very spiritual of you. Besides, it's funny. There's pain and suffering and crying and everything. What's not to like?

SA6. Oh stop being such a crybaby. Knucklehead is the least of what you are. And it's not funny. He was very sick and laughing about it just makes it worse. It was clearly your influence that moved him to write this nonsense. Stop encouraging his bad behavior.

SD6. Stop encouraging his bad behavior? Who do you think I am? I'm his shoulder devil not his shoulder wuss. That's your job. Heh heh.

SA6. Don't make me come over there goat boy. I'll beat you like gorilla with a Samsonite. Listen folks, just do us all a favor and ignore everything after Six says "you don't want it." It's for the children after all.

SD6. Bring it goody two shoes and see where that halo ends up. Nah, bring in the little ones, have everyone sit around in a big circle and read it out loud. Good fun and they'll learn something about bodily functions. Funny and educational!

SA6. Ok, that's it. It is so on.

SD6. Oh Yeah? Oh Yeah? Come on over if you're feeling froggy.

SA6. Froggy? Someone hold this for me.

{Hey!Stop that!Ow, that hurts!Don't pull that!Let go!Nononono! Mommy!}

Ok, drifted off there for a second. Where was I? Oh yeah, Saturday afternoon. So the DO was feeling sick (it's been running through the household) so Lu and I loaded up the kids and went out for a nice walk followed by a burger at 5 Guys. Loves me some 5 Guys. By the time we got home I was feeling...bloated. I figured I'd just over indulged on the baconcheeseburgerandfries. Nothing a good nap couldn't cure. I laid down on the floor but after an hour or so the pain was getting kinda unbearable.

With my usual heroic stoicism I... Who's doing all that snickering? Anyway, I managed to make it to bedtime but my stomach was now doing the kind of rumbling one usually finds only just prior to a major eruption of the volcanic kind. Still, I am a tough guy so I....Seriously, who is that?

So we headed in to bed and tried to go to sleep. Nothing like a good nights rest to cure what ails you. Still, along about late evening I was curled into a ball about my now ominously swelling and quite painful midsection. About then the lower end started making it's presence felt. I guess they felt left out or something. It felt like someone had pounded a cork into both the food and poop holes with a sledge hammer. Unpleasant.

At about 10:30 I felt Mister Bowel knocking. "Hey Mac. I've just about got this obstruction out so you might want to start thinking about what comes next. Perhaps getting somewhere with enough industrial capacity to handle this commercial load because buddy, it's gonna be a doozy. And where the hell did this stopper come from anyway? You been eating paste again?"

Feeling obliged to listen to the good Mister Bowel, I jumped up and made my painful way to the bathroom. Upon sitting down on the porcelain throne I could feel the stirrings as Mister Bowel made the final few swings and dislodged the blockage. The dam burst and out flowed the, well....outflow. As it were.

At this exact time Mister Stomach came a knocking. "I say old boy. We'd like to come out now. There's a good lad." (Mister Stomach has a British accent. I have no idea why. I think it's fake.)
I tried to defer. "I'd really prefer you not just at this moment. Busy with something else quite important don't you know. Why don't you just wait a few moments and go out by the back door? I'm told it's now unlocked and will be ready for your use in just a few minutes."
He was having none of it. "Nonsense. We came in by the front door and we'd like to leave the same way. Besides, have you seen what's using the back door? I simply cannot subject my guests to mingling with that sort. Not cricket don't you know."
I tried again. "My dear Mister Stomach. I quite understand and am in fact tied up at the moment with seeing those folks out. If you'll just exercise some patience I'll have the whole lot cleared out and ready for your guests in no time at all."
Mister Stomach then became quite insistent, even cross with me. "We have waited quite long enough already Sir. My guests are ready to debark and debark they shall. Now stand aside or I shall be forced to thrash you."

What could I do? When Mister Stomach gets like that he usually gets his way and tonight was no different. I sent along a quick word to Mister Bowel. "Hey, could I trouble you for a quick second? Seems like Mister Stomach need to let his guests out and is insistent on using the front door. Can I get you to, you know, close up shop for just a bit? I'm sure it'll only take a minute or two. I swear. Just a minute or two. You'd be doing me a huge favor."
He was at first unwilling. "Stop? What, now? You gotta be kidding me. I can't stop this kind of outflow all of a sudden. It takes time. There's valves and shunts and pressure vessels and stuff like that. I try to just shut it down all at once and it might blow and then where'd we be? Sorry. Best to just let it finish."
Now I became insistent. "Listen you little butthole. Just shut it down. Now. I'll take the responsibility if anything goes wrong. Just for the love of god shut it down!"
Reluctantly he agreed. "Ok but if this ends up all over the wall I ain't taking the blame, you got that? No one's pinning this on me."
And with that he slammed shut the exhaust valve and things slowed to no more than a trickle. Now it was time to contact Mister Stomach again. Not something I was looking forward to. No, not at all.

With that at least temporarily settled I got up and, with my pajamas still around my knees, turned around to a new embrace of the white Altar and prepared for the departure of Mister Stomach's guests. "Ready when you are Mister Stomach" I said. He wasn't long in coming as he was in quite a rush.

Have you ever just had your entire body just lock up? You know what I mean. Every muscle in your body in a sudden and total constriction so it feels like a giant hand is squeezing you from the toes up, like a colossal tube of toothpaste? Yeah, it was worse than that. I know where all the liquid Mister Stomach used to lubricate the passage of his guests came from. It was squeezed out of every cell in my body.

At least I was poised just over the bowl so most of the contents went where I had hoped they would. Of course there was a surprise for Mister Stomach and his friends. See, I hadn't yet had the time (nor the inclination, I was that sick) to flush. Mister Stomach actually swore and I'm pretty sure I heard screaming. It might have been me.

The first wave was my lunch from earlier that day. I could actually feel the crumbly hamburger as it went up and out. And, oh look, fries, still with that delicious dipping sauce on the ends. I really have to learn to chew my food better. But Mister Stomach wasn't done yet. Oh no, not by a long shot. He'd decided to take the opportunity to just go ahead and empty the old place out. A good Spring cleaning and just go ahead and give the boot to all the vagrants, trespassers and hangers on who had been living off his largess for a long time. Wave after wave of them. There comes a time in such a situation where you just give up and hope it all ends before you die. I just turned off and became an observer. An interested observer to be sure but no longer even trying to control events. I watched the flood in morbid fascination as the remains of meals long past and little remembered went by. At one point I'm certain I saw a potato pancake come flying out and I haven't eaten one of those since I was seven.

In between the waves there was sobbing, moaning and crying along with long strings of snot, mucous and tears dripping into the bowl. And prayers, lots of prayers. Either for succor or death I will never be sure. Did I mention Lu was there? Oh yeah, my woman, the one I love and who (at least up to now) loves me back was right there the whole time. Watching the spectacle and gently rubbing my sides and belly. She held back the top I was wearing so as to not let it become fouled. I mean it's not like I have hair she could sweep back. She stroked my body as the spasms wracked me and whispered soothing words as she beheld my shame. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to kill her. Either that or disappear forever and change my name.

Still, this too at last ended. Mister Stomach bade me a good day and went back down to his house, slamming the door behind him. Of course Mister Bowel wasn't quite done yet as he painfully reminded me. "Hey buddy. Uh, I think you better do something and do it quick because the pressure is way too high down here and I'm pretty sure she's about to blow."
I managed to stumble up and sit back down just in time as the pressure peaked and the dam Mister Bowel had been holding back burst forth in an explosion of noxiousness and shame.

You want to know how good your marriage or relationship is? Get explosively sick in front of your significant other. The kind where there is clean up to do afterward. The kind of clean up that involves various disgusting, vile and malodorous body secretions you will be too sick to help with. If they stay with you you're golden.

There was only temporary relief from the pain and sickness. I had long days and even longer nights of no sleep, no food and massive discomfort. Mister Stomach put the kettle on at full boil and left it there for many days. He even invited Mister Bowel up and the two had tea while discussing my various shortcomings and limitations and why in the world does she stay with him she could do so much better. I even had a relapse and a second talk with Mister Stomach of a sudden on Tuesday morning. Seems he'd discovered a boarder or two he'd overlooked on Saturday night.

But this morning I am feeling much better. I was able to eat a bit last night and again this morning. I was planning on going out for a thing or two but I'm going to sit here a while and see if I can't get some more sleep before I decide whether that's a good idea or not. Mister Stomach has damped the kettle and is taking on new guests again. Mister Bowel seems to have finally gotten all the pipes and basement workings sorted out. Good lads. I anticipate no more problems from those two for at least a bit.

So. That's my story though I seem to be of two minds about the telling. Something about being both disappointed and gleeful. And who is doing that laughing?

And why do my shoulders hurt?

Six