A Dangerous And Mandatory Evacuation -
A Dangerous And Mandatory Evacuation -
written (during 7 squared + 3 squared orbitz round the sun), when doomsday hovered like a dark and menacing unsound cloud threatening to rent me us...a thunder - ha!
Ha!
How ha ironic that thee unavoidable rectal urge occurred while in the midst of writing about that vitally important bodily function, which for any other Tom, Dick or Harry would be one safe endeavor – at least within their home.
That margin of harmlessly doth NOT exist within the rented domicile of this twenty plus years a married (morose) middle aged man.
What requisite non-forceful, essential, dutiful call viz zit ting the potty to purge the body electric of supposed waste matter (quite an efficient machine Homo Sapiens anatomy), regarding said expelling solid, loose, liquid...thru the anus ought to rank as minimally risky private business.
Imagine matter of fact saunter to the loo fraught with heaps of danger that could imperil the very existence of (in this case) myself.
Upon attempting to amble the very short distance (perhaps half a dozen paces), an immediately deleterious, hellaciously luminous, and perilously serious threat (unsurpassed even by hooliganism signature destruction forever enshrining Gothic or Vandals – if such peoples lived today and occupied this apartment unit), loomed as a far more impossibly harrowing mission that any combination of maximum strength (Excedrin would be superfluous) supposed major natural disasters all rolled into one frightful maelstrom!
Oft times the powerful need to relief thyself disallows any preparation (Habiliments), thus I am forced to make a quick dash to the toilet, BUT between the cozy comfort of this easy chair and the durable material designed to suction even the baddest, biggest, boldest BM belies a trail and mountain far more of a wicked bewitched crossing than say the now defunct Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant.
Though this comparison may seem like an exaggeration, the higgledy piggledy hewn heap of fetid foul fermenting laundry poses a dangerous, death defying diabolical (DO NOT ENTER) dump.
No other option existed for me to eradicate, expel, exorcise, et cetera potential fecal matter except to strike out toward the barrier reef of noxious, odoriferous, pestilential, queasily revolting sky high (declared Super Fund Site) to enjoy the simple pleasure whereby Gluteus Maximus dispenses with human toxins.
The urge to let loose a stool sample overrides any time to pen a loving note to surviving family members, which (two darling near grown daughters seem like foreigners as each precious Punim pursues autonomy countless miles, whereby the eldest a Junior at The University of Pennsylvania, and the youngest a student studying overseas).
Though a tenant at this subsidized (and quite agreeable accommodations nestled within Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania), no hyperbole necessary to describe daily cataclysm perchance spelling the doom and downfall of this husbanded papa, who would hate to leave thy special offspring behind.
Thus every onset to traipse so few feet to flush out thine flotsam and jetsam (when stream of urine sprays like a hose) to pay obeisance and homage to modern plumbing, the flash of mine LVIII years zips thru me memory, particularly when carefully, gingerly lumbering ridiculously slow (lest a mishap finds the ambulance siren wailing the destiny of this chap (most likely pronounced dead on arrival), whereby the tell tale sigh of turgid tummy would automatically inform the doctors that an obstruction preventing quintessential rear supply tubby undisputed venal wickedness.
Tis at unstoppable twitches to defecate (which sharp saber rattling rectal spasms) denote a common urgent irrepressible need arising within bowels), when mental gallows humorous arises.
Such an em bar ass sing ending to my rather ordinary life – (visa vis being constipated, deprived or hindered freeing offal, would put to shame “windbag” i.e. google as proof positive of blocked means to eliminate waste).
Also in tandem (though very slightly tangential to the above distressful horrible likely presentiment, this xMan bemoans being swept of my feet (literally) by the gigantic hands of she who now scatters dirty detritus damning ability to access the commode constitutes the reflection on remaining a Norwegian Bachelor farmer from Lake Woebegone.
How the trajectories of our widely webbed whirling boulevard of broken dreams (we may as well lived planets, galaxies or universities apart worlds) ever shared an intersecting vector continues to confound this puzzler.
Again that sneaky sobriquet irony doth mettle with steely goatherd drivers goes Pasteur homo, where gin till lit tee lives.
Long story short.
Circumstance found this then quite content solitary son of the soil invited to the admirable, estimable, inimitable estate listed as “Glen Elm” within National Registry of owned properties within Collegeville, Pennsylvania.
Garrison Keillor the slated guest of honor. He possessed that je nais se quois ability to tell tall tales, whereby audience members became rapt with seduction, usurpation, and wide eyed yearning to lean in so as to hear the suspense, which increased in magnitude in direct proportion as his home spun voice became softer.
Unbeknownst to this poor country bumpkin, when he took a bathroom break during impromptu intermission, a gal in her mid thirties livingsocial with her parents within the Mainline (a very wealthy enclave of residents within southwestern Montgomery County, Pennsylvania) agreed to follow the Jewish tradition asper prearranged marriages.
Though neither of the Semitic peoples, nor the least bit familiar with one of the oldest Religions, thee family, whose youngest daughter hinted of spinster hood, their open minded kindred ideas generated exception to the dictum per remaining steadfast to pinpoint “a nice Jewish Kosher Boy”!
As frequent attendees at this Leiper Mansion and storied magnet for the literati, the accidental chance encounter found thyself and the unfamiliar gal (fate decreed as thy bartered bride) happened to be awaiting use of the water closet.
As tends to be the predilection of the so called fairer gender, this petite and attractive dame introduced herself, which subsequently found us becoming more curious about the other.
The natural order of two heterosexual individuals (one male, the other female) allowed the basic instinct of attraction to engender a fledgling friendship, that quickly leapfrogged into a sexually intimate dalliance.
Without any precautions vix birth control, the inevitable outcome of hitting the figurative bullseye occurred. This reality determined a tepid reception to marry the gal whose child I fathered.
Even from this fairly commonplace get-go, the dynamics wildly described a the seismograph of a 10.00 earthquake, one category 5 hurricane, and an F5 tornado thrown in for good measure for measure, these tidbits totally hyperbolic, thus equal much ado about nothing relative to the interpersonal juxtaposition of our quite rapid tete a tete, that continues (to a much lesser degree – analogous to a subsiding storm of the Century 21) to this day.
After surviving approximately two dozen plus years, (the marital inflictions unquestionably more harrowing, strangulating, and threatening life and limb), the battle scars (many broken bones begot by innocuous shuffling to the bathroom) populating nearly every square inch of this ordinary chap deserves a medal of honor.
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