Everybody poops. Well, except my Mother. She's 80 and still won't admit to ever having a bowel movement in her life. But the rest of us sure do. So, during my recent bout of ill health, when the doctor ordered a fecal sample, I wasn't too upset.
I made my way over to the lab across town and offered to leave my shorts. Job done. Except the technician wasn't buying it. He wanted a sample just a little fresher. Ok, still no problem. There are three of us living in this house. It would take a little work, but I could just dig into the bathroom trash bin and keep unfolding until I found a piece I recognized. Job done. Except the technician wasn't buying that plan either. He wanted fresh. As in just done your business fresh.
So he hands me this little plastic cup to take home. I just stared at it there in my hand. I have seen CostCo hand out samples in bigger cups than that! What the heck was I supposed to do with that? Well, I knew what I was supposed to do. It was the actual accomplishment of the task that was giving me pause.
Since the actual thought of having to fill this little cup was causing me a bit of constipation, er, consternation, I had a few days to think over the process. I finally came up with what I thought was the perfect solution. The only problem was that every time I would hit the floating cup, it would sink! And the sample was not supposed to be contaminated in any way. Ok, off to get some more cups. I got a couple of dozen, just in case.
So, just like those games at the Carnival where you get to choose the yellow duckie out of the water tank, I set the water in the bowl in motion and set several blank cups afloat. Aim. Shoot! Miss! Aim. Shoot! Miss! It was the same old problem. If I hit one on the side, it tipped over and sank. If I got it dead on, it sank. This was clearly not working.
Plan B. I set a cup on the shower floor. I figured it would be easier to hit a stationary target. Aim. Shoot! Miss! Scoot a little to the left. Aim. Shoot. Miss again! Scoot a little to the right. Same results. Something was clearly wrong with this plan too.
Finally it hit me! Get your shit together, Wayne. Literally. All I had to do was set a bunch of those little cups all in a row! So I lined them up like little soldiers, got set and scooched and shot at the same time, right to left. At last, success! I had actually hit one! To say I was relieved is putting it my mildly. I was actually starting to get cramps in my bad hip from all that shuffling and scooting around!
If nothing else, I have class. So I loaded the little cup into a Liverpool bag and trotted it downtown to the clinic. Whereupon, in front of me and anybody else who cared to watch, he ripped open the bag and took the cover off the sample! I don't know what he was checking for. Quality? Quantity? A Thank You card? I didn't really care. I was just glad to have the ordeal over!
Ok, If anybody actually believes that story, I got some swamp property you should buy! True, I did have to come up with a fecal sample but the actual event was not funny and, in fact, was quite stressful. But heck, if you can't find humor in a situation, you might as well be dead.