Poop Shute

Ah.

Warm.

Floaty. Ah...
Huh? Woah! Wait just a second?! What's going on? Where's all the warm-floaty going? Where am I going? Awe, come on, I like it here!
Hey what's all that stuff? I'll call it... light! Yeah, light, that sounds good. After all, it's so bright. OWE! Hey, stop poking me! It... hurts. Yeah, hurts!
SMACK!
"AAAAAIIIGGGGHHH!" Wow, did that sound come out of me? I sure don't like this "hurts" stuff.
"Congratulations Mrs. Moore. You have a healthy baby boy. Ten fingers. Ten toes."
"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so... much..."
Who is this lady, and why is she staring at me like that?
"Um, Doctor, he's bleeding. Why is he bleeding, Doctor?" What's a bleeding? And why is she so upset that I have one?
"No, that's just afterbirth. That's normal."
"No, he has a cut, right there."
"What? Oh, I guess I went a little too rough on the forceps. He'll be fine, it's just-"
"You guess?! You guess?!?" So that's what that was. I thought it was "hurts", but apparently it's something called forceps. I don't like forceps very much.




"Hey, Mommy, look, no hands." I'm so cool, on my little plastic car. You know the kind. You're supposed to sit on it and push it around with your feet like that caveman guy in the cartoon. What they don't tell you is how much fun standing on it can be. Check me out; I'm so tall I'm king of the world! Well, king of the living room anyway. Master of all I survey. What the? That's strange. How am I suddenly looking UP at my feet? That doesn't seem right. Hey, why did it get all dark? Hello? Uh-oh. I have a feeling Mommy's not going to be happy when I wake up.



Running up and down a flight of stairs has to be the most fun I've ever had. There are no rules to this game, no winner or loser, just me and my little brother running up and down the stairs.
"Stop that, or you're going to trip and hurt yourself!" yelled Nanny.
"No we won't, we're-" as I turned to retort to my grandma in mid-stride I lost my footing, tripped on my brother and face-planted right on the metal guard at the top of the stairs that holds the carpet down. My six-year-old mind doesn't know the phrase "self-fulfilling prophecy", but I know I got the shaft on this one.



Gotta take a pee break. I've been sitting on my bed, drawing for hours and my bladder is very full.
Aaaahhhhhh. Follow up jiggle, and back to work.
I'm in a great mood I think to myself as I walk back to my room. Had a good day at school, got some good drawing time in. Yeah, it's been a great day. My spirits are so high I run through the door and take a flying leap onto my bed, landing on all fours. Instantly something isn't right, but it takes me a second. There's a shooting pain in my left arm all the way up to my elbow, and then a warm wetness. I slowly look down at my left wrist to see that I managed to land on the bed in just such a way that the eraser end of the pencil I had been drawing with was pushed hard by my left knee so that the point stabbed neatly into my left wrist.
Perfect.



Mexico. Gotta love it here. Gotta love the cheap food, the cheap beer, and staggering down the beach, after too much of both, with a good friend.
"Dude, uh, I think you just stepped on a jellyfish."
"What?" I look down. Sure enough, I had, and it was a pretty nasty sting too. I'm going to feel that when I sober up. Solution: Stay drunk all week.



I hate this number. I'm sure it looks funny, but I feel like such a schmuck doing it. All right. Here we go, and walk walk walk walk. Kick, shuffle, kick, shuffle. Leap, and knee, knee, knee, knee. Kick heals together, and leap. Pause. Present axe to Kelly, and run off stage and AAAAAIIIIIGGGGGHHHH! Son of a %#$@!!!
Mental note; can't see well in pitch black upstage. Next time run offstage more carefully.



Warcraft III. Now there was a video game. You've got your great graphics, your strategic game-play, and a great through-line story that the early strategy games were lacking. Besides all that, you got to kill stuff. Yup, Blizzard knew how to make a game.
What am I talking about? I can't seem to focus. What the hell? Where am I? Let's see... The ceiling has those damn foam tile things with the infinitely different patterns of nothing in it. Oh look, I see a clown in it. There's a dragon. Cool.
Damn it! Focus. I hear voices. Beeping. What is that beeping? Did I miss a call on my cell phone? I remember that time I dropped my cell and... there I go again. This is ridiculous. Let's see voices, and beeping... hmmm. I got it, I'm in the hospital! Well, that's a relief. What?!
Oh.
I see.
Now I'm acutely aware of the various tubes in me that are draped over my uncomfortable bed. And of the horrible ass-exposing gown I have on. So, here again, huh? Wonder what it is this time. My hip maybe? My heart? Vegetarianism and a rigorous, athletic lifestyle aside, we all end up here. One way or the other. It's funny; I entered this world with a scream, and I'll leave it with a...
a what? Who knows. "Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it." That's Shakespeare, isn't it? I wonder if this is what they mean when they say your life flashes before your eyes. I don't know.
I'm tired.