POSTED BY BINGO BARNES ON FRI, OCT 30, 2009 AT 6:59 AM
Fall harvest always brings a cornucopia of new foods into my diet. Combined with the fall road trips, hunting trips, fishing trips and upcoming holiday excursions to see family and friends the variety of foods I tend to ingest over the next few months is enormous. While I have always loved traveling and eating foods, my gastronomical tract has not. I tend to get all stopped up. The exact cause is unknown as to whether it is stress, too much lactose, being in a sitting position for too long, or traveling across the magnetic lines of the earth too quickly.
I have always had this issue, even as a young boy. Whenever we went to grandma’s house, somebody on day three or four would clog the toilet. I’m not saying who, but after an hour or two of working out a complex mathematical problem on the throne, the plumbing gods would decide to punish me.
I recall one traumatic incident as a young lad, after not having a BM for the better part of a week, my grandmother introduced me to the joys of the enema, a thrill not shared into my adult life.
When she first mentioned it I thought at first an enema was a new type of pastry she was making especially for the holidays. Her biscuits and dinner rolls were always to die for, especially when grandpa made the butter and molasses mixture to spread on them. I was eager to try her new pastry, the “enema.”
In hindsight (no pun intended), it could have been her biscuits that bunched me up.
My first inkling that something was amiss came when she said it was in the bathroom.
“Why would you bake an enema in the bathroom grandma?”
She thought that was cute and grabbed me by the ear to drag me into the bathroom. Down on the ranch they had well water, and in certain parts of South Texas the water tends to come up with a powerful sulphur smell. To this day I imagine that water coming up from the depths of hell itself, full of fire and brimstone.
“You’re going to stick what where?” I screamed.
There was no escape. She was between the door and me holding a red bag with a tube. She was a large woman and I was just a wee tot at the time. Yep, it was all fire and brimstone and a half gallon of water shooting out of my ass after her part was done. I can’t remember if it fixed my problem at the time but it fixed a memory in my head for life. I still get all bunched up thinking about it.