Pop - my favorite work of my own

Junior Year

No use sugarcoating the matter. There's enough sugar as is...oh, the lights are dimming now. Smiling faces all around me rejoice at my final undoing. I forgive them. They aren't mocking me. In fact, they aren't even paying attention to me.

      The Greek myths described the process of life as controlled by the three fates who held a string that represented your life, and when it was cut, you died. I always felt like that; as if my life hung by but a string, and could be cut at anytime.

     Actually, I feel a bit better now though. Maybe Jimmy was right after all, although his methods are questionable. Because until a minute ago, and for as long as i can remember, i have always had chronic stomach pain. I had always chalked it up to diet, but that was my own opinion, never had been to a doctor about it. Well, until two days ago. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

     It started a few days ago. I was watching the television at home, I believe the second hour of "Must See TV". Despite the title, I didn't feel any overpowering inclination to watch; there just wasn't much else on. I had recently finished dinner and was slouched down in my favorite chair, exhausted. My body had developed a tendency to become stiff in the appendages some nights; a sort of "stout peron's arthritis" as my friends had described it. As i started drinking my glass of water, a realization hit me. I hadn't gone to the bathroom in over a week. Stranger yet, I hadn't felt the urge to go. Now, my miteration cycle had been a little irregular for the past month, not going at all one day, five times the next. But at least I was keeping things moving. Now? I hadn't gone since at least last Tuesday, maybe Monday even. I started to panic, something could be seriously wrong. I ran to the bathroom and refilled my glass to the brim before quickly swallowing it in one, monsterous gulp. Nothing. Again, I filled it up. Some of it spilled over the top due to the nervous quivering of my hand. Liquid consumed, I waited. No urge was felt. Dammit! With great fervor, I filled two more glasses and drank them down. All was still quiet on the porcelain front. Shaken and defeated, I collapsed into my chair again, withstood another stomach cramp, and fell asleep.

    The white walls made the lights look brighter. A dull hum, actually, more of a low buzz radiated from the florescent lights. It lulled me into a quiet trance, broken only by the door opening and the entrance of a middle aged man with a cinnamon and white mustache.

    " Hello Mr.Lane, what seems to be the problem?"

    I looked past him to a small nameplate on his desk that said Dr.Mensonbaum, Ph.D.

    " Uh, I have stomach pain, and recently I've had problems... bowel wise," I mumbled. To this guy, bowel problems were commercials in a show of flus, colds and headaches. Nothing new here.

    " Well, when was your last visit to a doctor?"

    " It's been a long time...years...many years," I stuttered. I'm not even sure why I lied, probably so that he wouldn't assume something...anything.

    " Hmm. Well, let's see what we can see," he suggested, picking up a thermometer. He checked my breathing, reflexes, vision and such. Everything normal.

    " Everything seems to be normal here. No parasites so far," he said with a chuckle as he tapped me in the stomach.

    I almost told him to shut up. In fact, i would've punched him back, but I noticed his face had suddenly contorted in a gruesome manner.

    " What?" i asked, " What's wrong?"

    He tapped my stomach again. It made a rustling noise, like when one walks through fallen leaves.

    " What the hell is that?" I squeaked.

    " Hmm, I'm not sure," Dr.Mensonbaum stated. " Step on the scale a moment, won't you?"

    I stepped on. He moved the dials back and forth and his eyes narrowed.

    " Tell me, Mr.Lane..."

    I interrupted him, " Brian, please."

    " Okay, Brian, how much do you think you weigh?"

    I thought briefly, searching the ceiling with my eyes for the answer. " Last time i checked, I was 177 pounds."

    He gave me an odd look.

    " Why, what am i now?"

    He sighed and looked up at me, " 193."

    " What? 193? Look at me, I don't weigh 193."

    " I must admit, your looks are deceiving. But scales don't tend to lie. Hmm, something is amiss," he said while rubbing his chin. " Maybe we should get an x-ray, see what's going on inside."

    He told me to come back in two days. I didn't get much sleep that night, nor did i go to the bathroom.

    The next morning, despite a violent midmorning cramp, I went to the supermarket. Apparently, I didn't need any more food, judging by my current weight, but i had an unrelenting craving for chocolate. I noticed as I turned down aisle nine, canned goods, rice, and bread, that a small child was following me. He had dusty brown hair and a large, fudgsicle smothered smile across his face. At the opposite end of the aisle, when it was obvious he was following me, I stopped, faced him and bent down.

    " What's wrong," I asked, " Did you lose your mother?"

    His eyes and smile grew wider. He pulled back and punched me.

    " Hey! What was that for?" I yelled.

    He giggled, made another small fist, and hit me twice more. I stumbled to my feet and started backing away. He followed me further. As i tried walking down the next aisle, another child joined him in his pursuit. I quickened my pace into the freezer section. More and more children followed the chase. By the time I reached the front of the store, ten wide-eyed sprouts from the netherworld were behind me. I accelerated into a full out sprint, and ran out of the market.

    The room was even brighter the second time around. My life was being reduced to shambles. Dr.Mensonbaum finally came in.

    " Doctor, my life has been hell since I was last here. Please, help me!"

    He seemed to ignore my plea. Instead, he reported, " Your x-rays came back. They were interesting, but inconclusive."

    " What the fuck does that mean? Am i dying?"

    Am I talking to myself?

    He ignored me further and went on, " Just a few more things to check," he calmly remarked. He took my blood pressure and my pulse, nodding in expectation. What the hell was that supposed to do? The cramps are in my stomach, not my arm. Apparently,though, he knew.

    " Hmm, step on the scale once more please."

    I did so. It read 203. What the hell was going on? He just nodded lightly.

    " Right this way, Mr.Lane...oh, Brian."

    Another cramp hit me. The scale moved to 205. I couldn't help but stare at it as he led me off the scale and out of the room.

    " Are you going to help me? Where are we going?" I screamed.

    He took me down the hallway to a large teal door. " By the way, you had no pulse."

    My eyes grew to the size of my mother's good china. I put my fingers to my wrist, then to my neck, and franctically back to my wrist...nothing!

    The doctor opened the door to reveal the hospital's daycare center. Immediately, eight chubby little kids leapt to their feet and cheered. The doctor escorted me in, guiding me with a hand on the back of my bright green, red, and yellow ruffled shirt. Have you ever been intensely confused? You can imagine the state I was in then. But it got worse. The doctor proceeded to pick up a classic, yellow wiffle ball bat, and hand it to one of the blonde little girls.

    " Dr.Mensonbaum, what is the meaning of this?" I asked.

    He glanced at me. " Call me Jimmy, please."

    The little girl backed up slowly, then dashed forward and whacked me in the stomach. I cried out in pain, but she was unrelenting. Again, she hit me with a tomahawk blow and then a solid lateral slice to my abdomen.

    POP. YEAH!

    All the other kids dove to the floor and started gathering a bounty of tiny, wrapped chocolate and fruit flavored treats. I looked down; my stomach had burst open, revealing a colorful tissue paper interior that had acted as a vault for the candy that had recently made its exodus.

    Dr.Mensonbaum placed his hand on my shoulder and smiled, "You see my friend, you had slowly over time developed into a pinata. Yes, a giant, human pinata."

    I gawked at him, " But...how...does this happen?" I held my hands out, waiting for an explanation, but was only met with a whimsical shrug and a smile as I collapsed to the floor.

    Now you can see why I never went to a doctor before. Nothing but trouble. So many questions fill my head at this moment, but one predominant thought is at the forefront: At least I shouldn't have any more stomach pain.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This story was inspired by my ISS, or Irritable Stomach Syndrome, that gives me fairly regular stomach problems without much reason or explanation.

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Beatnik1979's picture

This is great

Great ability to tell a story....the right way.

its some Trippy shit.....

do more like this.

Very Creative