The pain within or When Lighting strikes..

   Lightening streaked across the sky cutting the darkness and revealing a raccoon digging through an improperly sealed garbage can. Thunder roared, startling the large thief so much that it slipped from the garbage can and fell onto his back in a most amusing fashion, its little black legs clawing at the air and tail flailing in order to get its feet back to the ground. When the sky lit up again the night dwelling creature was nowhere to be found, vanishing as quickly and quietly as it had appeared, leaving only a torn bag as any evidence it was ever there. Again the lightning flashed, illuminating a bedroom just big enough to house a queen sized bed and two night stands comfortably in the center of the wall. The room also contained a heavy, worn dresser opposite the bed, next to a partially open door. This dresser extremely sturdy, it was built in a time of true carpentry. The most unique part of this dresser were the feet, they were brass lions feet, truly an amazing piece.

The apartment was pretty standard for a young single professional; a quaint living room with a connecting kitchen, a long hallway with a bathroom to the right and a hall closet to the left, nothing really to write home about. Aside from the numbers reading 2:27am on the stove the apartment was pitch black with a silence to match. Suddenly that silence was broken by gurgling, a deep gurgle like air escaping from the bottom of a water cooler mixed with the sound a wet vac makes when water is being pumped out of a flooded basement. The sound echoed through the silent apartment again, louder and more disturbing than before, this time followed by a grunt. The lighting flashed again, highlighting the face of a bearded man in his early 30’s, his brow covered with beads of sweat. He wore only a pair of sky-blue boxers with a dark blue band around the top, a white tank top damp with sweat and a gold Timex watch. The gurgle happened again and was accompanied by a sharp pain shooting through the man’s intestinal tract and seemed to pierce his soul, this pain caused him to wake up from his slumber and look down at his stirring gut and clutched it just as a flash of lighting darted across his room bringing with it a loud wave of thunder that seemed to shake the frames that housed his windows. The man layed his head down and said in a soft whisper, “Enchiladas”.

He swung his legs out of bed and started walking to his bathroom when he was struck with another side splitting pain that caused him to simultaneously grab the wall and clinch his butt cheeks in an attempted to hold back the stew of cheese and improperly cooked chicken that boiled like lava in his lower intestine. The man bravely took another two steps before he was greeted by another sharp pain and deep gurgle reminding him of his decision to buy street food from a gas station parking lot. He took three more steps toward the door before driving his baby toe into the brass foot of the dresser, he swore with the ferocity of the storm developing outside. After he composed himself, he pushed the door open and took another three steps towards the bathroom and felt an immense pressure that caused him to firmly block his anus for any enchiladas trying to escape prematurely. Finally at the bathroom door he flung it open and in one move dropped his under wear, turned around and began to sit. Though his naked behind did not hit the toilet seat but instead the rim of the toilet; the toilet seat had been left up as bachelors often do, and covered with pee from two weeks ago. A soup of urine, pubic hair and condensation had started to form a sort of celestial soup on both sides of the toilet. 

This lubricant caused him to slide butt first into the bowl of the toilet where, well, an eruption of enchiladas exited the mans body at such a force it quickly turned the clear water of the toilet into a muddy red color with bits of yellow corn and green peppers floating here and there. During this evacuation he managed to pull himself out the bowl and rest his body on the edge of the toilet but not before painting the lower edge of his tank top with the sludge. He sat for a moment, relieved to have gotten that demon enchilada out of his body; with the middle of his forearm he wiped the sweat and droplets of toilet juice from his forehead and gave out a sigh. As he turned to grab some toilet paper he suddenly remembered the grocery list on his fridge that he put off until tomorrow, at the top of this list, boldly written and underlined, TOILET PAPER.  A tear fell from the mans eye as he gently rests his face in both his palms because he knows this nightmare is far from over…