The Mustache That Says "I Love You"

 

I will treat you all to a story, that I have told before, and that is unfortunately true. It would have to be, I mean there is no reason to make up what you are about to read. Some of you know the story already and to you I ask that you either suffer through yet another retelling or simply go away and leave me with what dignity I still have. Those of you that do not know the story, please to enjoy as I tell you the story of "Cheeks and the self imposed Dirty Sanchez!"

 

A few winter seasons ago I found myself home alone with a day off from work and nothing much to do. I was lounging around the apartment while tooling around the information super highway. I was two cups of coffee into my day when I felt the first grumblings of a sweet AMS (Awesome Morning Shit) and I decided I would kill two birds with one stone and refill my coffee mug on the way back from the commode. I dropped off my coffee mug in the kitchen and took my normal position for a nice movement. It was quite uneventful and after a few moments my crap sausages were completely deposited into their watery grave. I then began the paperwork part and a little background info is needed here: I am usually a three wipe and done guy, unless there are extenuating circumstances i.e. the brown apple splatters - in which case it might just be easier to get in the shower and deal with it than going through wipe after wipe trying and clean that up. But as I said this was an uneventful evacuation and after the first wipe I did the wipers version of "spell check" and inspected the paper and found that it was unmarred by the second wiping. Wow I almost had myself a "Walk Away" awesome indeed.
 

 

After I flushed the fetid tootsie turds I made for the kitchen to fetch myself a fresh cup of coffee. I added cream and sugar, stirred, sample taste, ahhh, perfect, and started back toward the computer. A few steps removed from the kitchen I found myself the recipient of a wriggling ass itch. You know the kind where it makes you do a little dance before you even get to dig in and it feels like something is burrowing its way into your rectum. Well, I got that approximately 10 seconds before I got one of those itches across the tip of my nose that is 49% painful and 51% itch. You know the kind that makes your eyes water in the few seconds it takes you to get there and scratch it. Well, I had one hand full with a hot cup of coffee so there was only one solution it would seem. Use my free hand to scratch both offending areas. Which I proceeded to do.


 

Now, let me tell you what really happened in the bathroom: When I wiped the first time, two entire squares of TP remained in my colon and formed a barrier between the second wiping attempt and the horrid mess that so needed that second (and a third) wipes attention. I dug between my cheeks with a vengeance attempting to rectify the dreaded crack crickets that already had me doing the St. Vida's' Dance across the living room. So much so that on the way back towards my face I didn't notice that through my boxers I had managed to get a finger full of fecal matter and proceeded to try and clear up the nose itch that had me ready to sneeze, spit, and spill my coffee all over the living room.

 

I immediately began to wretch and had to make my way back to the kitchen and I will leave the rest to your imagination!