The Feast Of The Protein Bars
Me and my ex-wife signed up for some "own your own business" thing where you have to recruit people and all that. One of our main "hot products" were these protein bars. You know, those real gooey-type bars, similar to the Power Bar. So to demonstrate our love of these things (they were pretty good), we bought bunches. They had different flavors, too.
It was time for us to go on a road trip to one of our "conferences" for the business. (I forget what the term is for these types of businesses where you have a downline and an upline, and only the people at the top really make the money. Kinda like a pyramid thing, but it's legal.) Anyway, our destination was about eight hours away. We've got a vanload of people, so we packed all these protein bars -- our newest and greatest product.
So I'm eating these very filling chocolate gooey protein bars all the way there (eight hours) and all the way back (eight hours). And I'm sure I had some while I was there, and I think I ate a few other meals during this weekend. We left on a Friday night. We came back on a Sunday night. I didn't go to the bathroom during the whole weekend trip -- a fact I thought was kind of odd. Little did I know.
You must understand: I was sitting so long in that ride on the way there, and during the conference we just sat there all day long for two days, and then I was sitting all the way home for the ride. So just imagine: no exercise, not much movement, and I'm filling myself with what amounted to a mix of chocolate tar and chocolate glue. I'm sure over the course of the weekend I probably had fifteen or twenty of these very filling meal-replacement protein bars.
So I get dropped off at my house Sunday night, and I began to feel the need to use the bathroom. I sit on the toilet, ready to let it go, and nothing is coming out. This was a dry shit. That gooey tar bar I had been eating all weekend was stuck in my intestines and colon. I could see it in my mind, stuck in there like a bunch of dark black and brown goo.
So while I was sitting on the toilet, my wife was in the other room, listening to me grunting, complaining, whining. "What's wrong, honey?"
"It's not coming out... I'm stopped up!" I replied. "It's all them fucking protein bars! Oh my god! This fucking sucks!" I had never experienced anything like this in my life. I had never been constipated before, that I knew of. I had never even really thought about it. I was thirty years old, healthy, active, and I usually ate a good diet. But not this time.
Maybe ten minutes went by, and I may have gotten as much as a pebble out of my ass. I felt a huge lump like a baseball right on the other side of my asshole, and it was stuck. No lubricant. No juices or moisture in that shit to help it through.
Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes. By this time I'm totally naked. Sweating. Cussing. Pacing around my bathroom, hunched over, thinking that if I stand up and walk a bit it will help get things moving. Then I sit back down. Get up. Sit down. The large bulk of dark goo is poking its little head out my hole. It's stuck. I'm in pain now. It totally feels like birth -- like a little brown baby is trying to get out my asshole. It wants to be born. I don't know what to do. I can't go to work with a brown baby hanging out my ass. It's not moving... what do I do?
I help it. I start to pick pieces off. Grunt, squeeze, a little bit of the goo comes out, and I pinch it with my fingers. The rim of my asshole is so tender that it hurts like hell when I poke it, searching for a grip on the baby. But I get a little piece. I pick it out and throw it in the toilet. I have to stand up and hunch over to do this. Don't monkeys do this? I don't know what else to do. Nothing else is working and I have to get it out so I grab what I can of the shit and pick it out. Squeeze, breath, grunt, I remember the birthing classes where you breathe deep. I get a little more to come to the surface, just enough so I can get my fingers on it and pick it out. I try and put a thin piece of toilet paper in my hand to pick the shit with so I don't have to get the shit on my fingers, but it works better if I just grab the shit without it.
After over an hour of this fiasco, I get to the point where I've picked out quite a bit of shit. If I can get a little more... finally I pull the last bit that will make the rest of the baseball just barely, barely small enough to fit through my intensely-strained asshole, and kaboom! The big, black, gooey baby glob hits the water like I dropped a big rock in a lake. Kakunk! I did it. The baby came out. I gave birth. It was over.
No little shits left. Nothing else came out. All my shit had molded itself into one big glob close to the size of a bowling ball, and I had picked it and squeezed it and cussed it until I got that sonofabitch out of me.
And I've never eaten another protein bar in my life. And our business failed.
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Protein Bar Poop Story
