My asshole bleeds and bleeds now. From shitting so much. I shit, I wipe my bloody ass, grind the shit right into my bloodstream. Shit that is filled with third world parasites. I should see a doctor. But what are they gonna do. Been through this before. Round 1: ride it out for a few more days, they will say. Stay hydrated. Eat a high fiber diet. On your first visit, a doctor gives you as much new information as the warning on a pack of cigarettes. “Uh, try living healthier. Do healthy things you’ve heard about on TV.”
Go back because the fiber didn’t work. Round 2: antibiotics. The recommended course is Cipro. Been down this road. Cipro holocausts your gut bacteria. Well counteract it with probiotic foods, the yogis in your life will say. Bullshit. Your gut is its own planet. Its own ecosystem. The Whole Foods goat yogurt does nothing. Cipro kills the little niche bacteria, too. Not just the famous yogurt bacteria every idiot’s heard of. To revive your gut, an opportunistic example of this niche bacteria must survive in the dry air for days. Find its way up your ass like one of those movies where a dog and cat find their way home across America. Fight the other bacteria, now turned into Road Warrior from the devastating nuclear attack of the Cipro. Multiply. Form a colony. It takes years. I know, I have lived it. The treatment to make me stop shitting blood will only make me shit blood more. But you gotta try. Doctor’s orders.
Round 3: Cipro only made a mess. Now we get into deep diagnostics. Blood tests. They say nothing. Stool samples. Nothing. They will give me the Shit Card. Hold a cup under your ass and squeeze into it every day. Saw at the shit with a little spoon, smear it on a special advent calendar. Take it to the doctor who sends it to a lab who sits on it for weeks. Go in for the results. Uh, we don’t know. Try eating more fiber. Oh, and insurance refused the bill. Here you go.
The California Unemployment Insurance Department had a computer glitch. This is how it was presented in the news. Like Contra crashed your Nintendo. In fact they paid a firm called Deloitte and Touche millions of dollars to overhaul their aging system. Deloitte and Touche had been paid similarly by the state of Massachusetts a few months before. Their work caused that state’s unemployment system to crash and burn irreparably. No one got paid. Then the exact same thing happened here. Who could have seen it coming.
Thousands of people haven’t been paid for weeks. People are losing homes. As of press time Deloitte and Touche was unavailable for comment. The state has a computer form to ask where your money is. It sends them an email. I emailed and emailed. Nothing. Due to federal budget cuts, the phone recording tells you, nobody works here anymore. Please go fuck yourself. Further information can be had by dialing (the same number you just dialed). Again in Spanish. They are five weeks behind on my payments. I’m sure my landlady will understand.
Who knows if that money will even come through late. I stretched out my initial six month term by working. They deducted the wages out of my payments. Only now am I becoming eligible for the first federal extension. The state automatically files this for you, they say. But who knows. Their system is in flames. I’m not just a rollover, either. My case needs review, since I’ve been dutifully reporting my income. Do the right thing and get fucked. They owe me over a grand. As long as the government doesn’t shut down it should be fine.
I have boils. One on my face. One in my armpit. One on my hipbone. A big one on my shoulder that I tried to pop. That one’s been around for months. So long that it’s probably a tumor. Crushing it with my thumb and forefinger squirted pure cancer into my bloodstream, I’m sure. Got a thimbleful out of it. White goo shot bloodlessly out of a tiny little pore. Rocketed across the bathroom and sprayed all over the mirror. I’m leaving it there. May be needed for a biopsy.
I feel old. My body is broken. I can’t lift weights. I can’t even jerk off. The bills are due. Everything is about to get shut off. Brakes about to go on the car. I can’t fix them. I preserve them by not stopping. Women on the street look at me with contempt. I walk slouched over now, trying to ease the pain in my gut. Sweating. Sad eyes like an an old spaniel.
I need to shit again. Tenth time today. I can almost hear my mossy toilet whimpering. Like a beaten child begging for it to stop. Sorry, old girl. You weren’t built for this abuse. You deserve a better life.
But then, don’t we all.