This isn’t what you may be thinking. The reality is I cannot shit in unfamiliar surroundings. I could have cramps of mammoth badass motherfucken shit proportions, but if I am not at home my asshole revolts. It is like my asshole has this eyeball that pops out to ensure the throne upon which suspends it, is one that is familiar.
You have no idea how difficult this affliction is when your girlfriend lives 50 miles away. She will cook these elaborate meals and afterward my stomach will give me the signal. There I will be sitting with my assholes eyeball bulged out, screaming, “NO MOTHERFUCKER, IT IS NOT SAFE, RUN!” It scares the shit all the way back up to my intestines where it waits for the “all clear”. This “all clear” sometimes begins prematurely. It begins when I just make my way over the bridge before my exit. I begin the manic sphincter squeezing, praying, “please Lord, please let me make it home…”. If I happen to stop at the gas station at the corner before home, as a precaution, there goes that eyeball and the revolt immediately. You cannot fool my paranoid asshole. It should have been a secret service agent used for secret missions abroad.
I wish I were free to shit when the urge moved me. I wish my asshole didn’t have this paranoid retractable eyeball. This is my reality and my life, no matter how my stomach retracts, shit ain’t coming out of my asshole unless I am home. The horror of it all people. Pray for me.