Bluddeanous Period Part 4

To recap: After discovering a red bomb exploded in the toilet that changed my world forever like Hiroshima, I went to the doctor to get to the root of the problem. I was demeaned with the task of proving there was blood in stool, which resulted in an uncomfortable and unholy, well I guess quite hole-y, use of popsicle sticks. After storing poop smears in my apartment for several days, I finally collected enough brown stamps to turn them in to the doctor for my prize.

Lo and behold, they discovered that there was actually blood in stool. This came as a huge surprise after my dump looked like Stephen King's Carrie at the prom. And boy did they ever have a prize for me. They scheduled an appointment to meet with Dr. Steve. I just made up his name just now, but it seems fitting for the story. I don't remember the actual doctor's name, just the size of his thumb. My apologies for those of you who weren't interested in this kind of story. But sometimes the truth, and a doctor's appendages, hurt. And this is definitely one of those cases.

So I have an appointment with who we will call Dr. Steve. An old, pedophile looking doctor with thick dark-framed glasses. He wore the white doctor's coat of authority, but looked more like a senile Wal-Mart greeter. He had a grandpa-type uncertainty to his voice when he asked me to get changed into the gown. When he returned, he struggled to read the chart through his thick glasses. Then he told me to turn around and put my hand on the tables. I will never forget his request as he lubed up his gloves, "Please squeeze like you are having a bowel movement." Then with one fell swoop, his cold lubricated finger was in my asshole. It kind of scoped around in there. Then he said to himself, "nope." He fumbled through to place another finger in there. Not more fingers at the same time, I just think he felt like he wanted a different angle. I am convinced this one was his thumb, but I didn't have the courage to look. The last thing I wanted to do was make eye contact with a man who had his hand in butt.

He looked rather confused. I would make a joke that he looked pleased with the events as he smoked his cigarette, but that wouldn't make me look good either. Instead, he really just looked puzzled. He scribbled on the chart and said something like, "well, I didn't see anything." That could either have been because he looked half-blind, because his exploration wasn't exactly a visual inspection, or because there really isn't much to see in the naked anus with a naked eye.

As I was advanced to the next step, I learned that like the popsicle stick search for proof of blood, this anal violation was not necessary. Ideally I would have skipped to step four of this awful experience (not that step four gets any better). But instead, I had one more experience to go through before the Bluddeanous Period would be complete.

To be continued...