Shit Got Real 1

For some reason lately I keep telling stories of the three times I went number two out of my house. I’m one of those people that cant just take a dump anywhere. This one tale starts out of my house but it ends there. I will soon regale you all with tales of my wild ass. Literally. This one involves laxative tea, lying to co-workers, and lots of sweating.

“Oh, this ain’t good…”

This is what crossed my mind as I headed to my bathroom. I didn't have the best of diets a few years back. On a diet consisting on mostly beef my colon was like the 405 during 7:30am. At the behest of The Mexican Whore (I'll explain later sometime) I decided to go on a fast and cleanse. It was supposed to be followed by drinking cayenne pepper, syrup, and lemon juice.

The cleanse started with drinking this herbal laxative tea. Now don't get me wrong, I didn't doubt that the stuff would work. I just doubted how fast it would. Now here's the deal. I had to drink one cup of this stuff right before bed. It didn't taste half bad. I guzzled it down and was like, “That wasn’t so bad.” It was a Sunday night and there was no better way to start the week than with a nice, refreshing cleansing. Oh, this was such a bad idea.

I get up and it's Monday morning. This tea shit (or shit tea if you will) had the entire night to work its way through my system. I figured that I would have to crap immediately or at the very least wake up prairie doggin' (bonus points of you get that joke). No dice. I did like I was told and drank another cup using the same bag. I got ready and headed downstairs to work at the porn shop thinking nothing of it.

It's 6am and I am done counting in the register and have a seat at the stool (don’t laugh) ready for another miserable day. But this day, my friends, would be like no other in history. Things would happen that would make me question the existence of God, my country, and my bowel control.

Minutes into starting my shift I got a horrible feeling in my gut. Ass is more appropriate. Because if my ass had a voice it would've told me something like this:

"I need to get on a toilet now. Not soon, but now. Get up and get to a toilet now or I swear to God I will ruin your life. Dante, get to a toilet now. Do you think I'm playing with you?! Because I'm not. Now, Dante. Go. Now!"

So I did. I put my glasses in my coat pocket and lied to my co-worker saying that I had left them upstairs. I ran to my place with my ass cheeks clenched so tightly if you had out a piece of coal between 'em I would've made a diamond.

I made it to the toilet and (this is the part where you either continue reading or check out right now because this story isn't gonna get any better) went to town! Shit got real. My, God! I didn't even know I had that much…anything inside of my body. It was so damned horrible. It wasn't painful or anything but it was the furthest thing away from pleasant.

It was the equivalent of giving birth. Well, I will never give birth to a child but still. Man, it was bad. I finished up, sweating the entire time and just tired. It had actually exhausted me. Have you ever shit so hard you got tired? I did.

I got back to work and about fifteen minutes later…had to go again. I couldn't even think of a lie to tell. I just had dude come to the counter and took the Brown's to the Superbowl. Now I'm mad. Ain't nothing like shitting and being mad. The only other time I can think of it is when I was trying to free James Brown and my brother Luther kept trying to get the door open. Have you ever shit angry? Don't.

The thing that got me was that the results were the same. I felt like I had lost pounds, people! Pounds! I finished, wiped the sweat from my brow and went back to work. The entire time I am cursing The Mexican Whore and hoping she is on the bus and experiencing the same crap I was (literally). I sit back down and just know…I just know that I'll have to go again soon.

Sure enough an hour later it's time for the trilogy or terror. The results were bad but the original and the sequel had more results. I finished up and was good for another couple hours.

I finally stopped completely around 5pm that night. I was feeling hollow inside. I had seriously emptied out my body of everything I had ever eaten and never came out. I was like, "I'll never do this shit again!" I also drank that weird lemon/syrup/cayenne drink for a few days and felt like I was gonna lose my mind. I like eating, ya'll. Wanna see me really upset? Deny me food. My inner fat child will come out so fast your head will spin.

The moral of this story is that if you decide to clean your bowels out do it on a Friday night or something. Don't do what Dante don't does. If I had done it on a Friday night I would've been cool. It's cool to wanna be healthy but not at the possible expense of a good pair of jeans.