Journey to the Center of my Bum
My Grandpa would always sit me down on his knee and tell me that "Good health is the most important thing in the world. More than success, more than money, more than power." Actually I think that was Hyman Roth from The Godfather Part II, but the point remains that it's important to stay on top of your health so you can enjoy the years you have on this earth. The body is a very fragile and delicate thing that requires constant maintenance and care. This especially is the case when it comes to the human digestive system. Stomach and intestinal problems are the most common issues that people currently face. It seems like everyone I know has some sort of digestive problem. What could be the cause of the steep incline of cases? Is it the overbearing tension and stress of 50 hour work weeks, traffic jams, and noise pollution? Or, is it the greasy, sugary foods we devour, food that our bodies were never designed to consume? I'm sure it all must have a profound effect on our systems, and it sure sucks when your plumbing feels like it had man eating plants popping out of it like the popular video game, Super Mario Brothers.
That's why when I started experiencing horrible pain in my stomach like being jabbed with a red hot poker covered in sulfuric acid, I thought it would be wise to have it checked out. At first I tried to go the cheap way about it and asked the advice of my Uncle Cecil, who was a vet before the state took his license away after a pig/cat love triangle scandal. He told me that my belly was full of goblins because I eat too much lettuce and the only cure is to drown them in pure malt whiskey. This makes sense since he's been drinking whiskey since the Vietnam War, where supposedly a whole battalion of Vietcong goblins entered his body while he was sleeping in his foxhole. Unfortunately, Uncle Cecil's usually reliable advice proved to be unsound, and only complicated my stomach ailment. So I decided to finally go to the doctor and get it looked at by professionals. They said it was pretty serious and they would have to get a closer look...inside my bowels!
Of course when I heard this news I screamed like a little girl and ran out of the doctor's office, but quickly came to my senses and realized that the pain would not subside unless I took care of this problem. So I returned to the doctor and set the appointment for my surgery, as well as instructions on the preparation procedures. It was no picnic let me tell you. It said I had to go 48 hours without eating a thing and drink 3 ounces of this oily laxative that was the bottle said was flavored with "ginger-lemon" although the taste was more reminiscent of a "soiled underwear/decomposed flesh" flavor. I didn't think the eating part would bother me that much because I'm a skinny dude and don't think about food that much, but as soon as I couldn't have any food I wanted to eat everything in the world. Every time I had to feed my guinea pig meals, I would get jealous over the scrumptious pellets he would get to devour. Going to the bathroom wasn't that bad since I was equipped with the the newest hi-tech PDA so I didn't have to miss what was going on in the world while I sat on the toilet. After my digestive tract was clean as a whistle, and I looked like an extra from Schindler's List, it was time to get a look inside of me and see what was wrong.
The procedure would not be without great peril and risk. The brave medical team consisting of Dr. Steve and his team of nurses would be using the latest technology of colonoscopy medicine in my surgery. A new laser developed by NASA will be shrinking the medical team to a quarter of an inch in height so they can enter a small ship that was specially designed for navigation in the human body. Soon I was on the table with an IV in my arm, pumped full of powerful narcotics, and ready to be probed by the ship manned by the hospital staff. They were equipped with video cameras, so I could follow their progress on the screen in front of me. In order to properly convey where they explored and what I saw, I have provided a handy map to the inside of my body. Hold on to your hats, for you are all about to take a journey to the center of my bum!
The Rectum: Entrance to Hell
As the intravenously-fed narcotics whisked me away to the land of unicorns, the medical ship, aptly named the S. S. Bold Eagle, entered my rectum. Right away there was trouble. Visibility was very poor, and the ship had to navigate around some random Go-Bots action figures that I have no recollection of putting in there, but I've been to some wild parties, so who knows. Once the Go-Bots obstruction had been cleared with the ship's mechanical arm, they continued deeper into the passage to my colon. So far no hints of infection, cancer, or disease had been spotted. The captain turned the ship to the starboard side, bracing the crew for the rapids and falls ahead.
Little Bear Falls
As the S. S. Bold Eagle rounded the Buffalo Rapids and the Chippewa Straits it came upon the Little Bear Falls, a place of ill refute for sea vessels and feces alike. The walls closed in and the speed of the current picked up. If things weren't hard enough for Dr. Steve and his staff, the weather took a turn for the worse and forks of lightning nearly missed the boat many times. As the falls approached, one shaky-kneed intern lost his nerve and jumped ship, trying to make a swim back towards the light. The cowardly fool was swallowed up by a whirlpool and was not seen again, until I went to the bathroom the next day. The rest of the crew lashed themselves to the deck, bracing for the notorious Little Bear Falls. The ship went over, crashing over the foamy break, nearly capsizing, yet staying upright and clearing the dangerous falls. The staff gave a sigh of relief, and then continued down the tunnel. That's when a kraken attacked the boat, trying to cut it in half with it's razor sharp beak, but the Dr. Steve beat it off with the ship's mechanical robot arm. With the danger past for now, they made their way into the colon.
Soon the walls opened up enough wto here it was impossible to see either side. The S. S. Bold Eagle was in the large expanse of the colon, where they suspected they would find the root to my pain. Ahead in the gloom they could make out an large island, so they crew decided to stop to replenish the water supply and camp for the night. After the vessel was safely anchored and camp was established, they decided to do a quick search to maybe find out if there was anything of interest on the island. It didn't take long to find what looked like a section of a wing from a prop plane. Dr. Steve, being a historical student as well, recognized the piece and continued searching. Under a patch of palm trees they found a badly damaged plane that, upon further inspection, turned out to be none other than Amelia Earhart's missing plane! Inside the cockpit was her skeleton, some of the bones splintered and broken. The glee of the discovery was short lived when a Stegosaurus tore through the underbrush, snatching a well-endowed nurse in its mouth and swallowing her whole! The crew screamed, running back to the rowboat, and made their way back to the ship. As they rowed, they saw all kinds of dinosaurs on the island, fighting with each other and stomping to and fro. Although they had made a great find with Earhart's plane, they left the piece of wing on the island, thus failing to bring back proof, and leaving the secret to the dinosaurs.
Leaving the island behind, the Bold Eagle sailed into an even larger section of colon. By this point, most of the staff wanted to get out of my body since most of them had golf and lunch reservations, but the sense of duty kept them going. Since they came this far, they wanted to find what the problem was, but they just hoped it would be soon. Suddenly, the lookout in the crow's nest shouted, warning of a dangerous object in the water, which was possibly a coral reef. They slowed speed and as they drew near they saw that a pile of random objects were jutting from the water, presenting a grave danger to the ship's hull. Extreme caution was used navigating around the objects, which consisted of things like car keys, forks, bottle caps, CDs, and license plates. I really don't remember eating these things, but like I said, I go to some wild parties. Just as the ship was making a turn around an old Kenny Loggins CD, the hull struck a can opener, splitting it open. The Bold Eagle soon was taking on more water than the crew could pump out, and the doctor called to abandon ship. Luckily land was near, and only one male nurse drowned. They would have to go on by foot.
El Dorado: The Lost City of Gold
Legend speaks of the Lost City of Gold as a magical place crafted from pure gold; every road, every building, even the toilets. Scientists and doctors alike laugh when they hear of it, calling it a mere child's tale. The staff of Novi's Providence Hospital learned differently when they turned the corner into the Euglena Pectora. Blinding golden light bathed them head to toe, their jaws dropping with disbelief. Before them lay El Dorado, The Lost City of Gold. Just like the legends said, the entire city was made of beautifully crafted gold, with an arry of meticulously designed golden statues dotted all over the city. Two of the younger, less wise, med school interns rushed headlong into the city so they could carve out of a chunk of the precious gold and live like kings. Before Doctor Steve could stop them, they ran up the golden stairs whooping with excitement. Then in the blink of an eye, the two interns turned into solid gold! Dr. Steve shook his head and realized that the city was under a golden curse, and everything in the city will turn to gold. The small remains of the once large staff turned to leave to continue hiking to the stomach, but then another intern couldn't help himself and ran into the city where he promptly turned to gold. Dr. Steve shooked his head and walked on.
At long last, the weary and worn out surgery staff made it to my stomach, the most probable place for the source of the problem since all other areas had been searched. Right away, Dr. Steve knew there was trouble afoot. The red glow of fire shone off the roof of the stomach, flickering and dancing about. They found a pile of partially digested Cheez-Its, and took cover, peering over into the stomach valley. What they saw shocked and appalled them. A host of dark, evil looking goblins had created a village in the center of the valley, creating havoc with wicked looking weapons and fire. One of Dr. Steve's top assistants and right hand man tried to get closer for a better look, yet slipped on a Muncho and tumbled down into the middle of the village where the goblins pounced on him, tying him to a spit and setting him over one of the many raging fires. Dr. Steve had no time to mourn though, for a scout spotted them and arrows wizzed over their heads from every direction. Their only chance of escape was up the Esophagus and out the mouth. They ran as fast as they could not looking behind them. One by one they were picked off by the fell poison tipped arrows until it was just Dr. Steve. He clambered up the throat tossing down anything he could get his hands on to slow down the pursuing goblins. As last he was at the mouth and escape looked to be possible, but something stood in his way. It was the goblin chiefton who was determined to not let Dr. Steve out of his clutches. A "to the death" battle took place that was really cool, and Dr. Steve ended up getting stabbed in the arms a few times, but then he took the large goblin's sword away from him and impaled him to the wall of my mouth, quipping "Stick around." He then leaped out of my mouth and into safety, never looking back.
Everything went black for a while but when I came to I saw Dr. Steve and was glad he was all right. I recounted everything I saw and told him that my Uncle Cecil suspected it was goblin trouble from the start. To my surprise the doctor just laughed and said that I hallucinated the whole thing because of the strong narcotics, and that the only thing they did was put a tube with a camera on it inside my colon. He went on to say that they found Crohn's Disease and it's incurable, but treatable. I just assumed Crohn's Disease was a fancy way of saying goblins, so I got dressed and ready to leave. Dr. Steve gave me a piece of paper with some scribbles on it, but I already know what medicine I need. Sweet, sweet golden brown whiskey. Dark malt brew, behold thy slave.