Beads of Sweat Part 1

Beads of sweat coalesced upon my brow. Not sweat released because I was hot and my body was osmoregulating but sweat bred from nervousness and uncertainty. Was I going to make it? It was going to be a photo finish if I was lucky enough to get that far. I was contracting my anal sphincter so hard I was going to be fishing diamonds out of the toilet or wherever I jettisoned my rectal cargo. Only a newly imprisoned straight man upon hearing the phrase "fancy a poke" from his fairy cellmate could relate. Clenched like a submerged duck's ass.

I wondered if repositioning my belt around my butt would help maintain closure...just in case my gluteus muscles spasmed and failed. My nervousness peaked when I thought of walking from my car to the bathroom. I was going to have to use my hands to help keep my butt closed. I briefly envisioned an ignominious, grim outcome. I shuddered and strengthen my resolve while repeating the mantra, "You're going to make it. By hell, you're going to make it." I could only hope enough repetitions would convince my nearly failing butt muscles. The lactic acid was accumulating at a discouraging pace from overuse. The reserves were quickly depleting, a sure sign of impending doom. I grimaced. I couldn't bear to thing of the consequences of muscle failure and the indignity there from. An embarrassing prayer was uttered, embarrassing because I couldn't believe that I, a grown man, was asking for help not to fill my pants with number two. It's a good thing I do my own laundry cause this most likely wasn't going to end cleanly.

I was nearly home after enduring mild traffic like a man enduring physical torture. I was asking too much from my butt to stay shut and was nearing the point of it demonstrating its capitulation. Two more minutes!! I said in my mind, hoping my butt would somehow be able to hear my plea and effectuate it. I realized it was like asking Elton John to satisfy a woman or asking a Frenchman to fight...it wasn't going to happen. A large gas bubble momentarily repositioned itself giving my tired butt a brief respite. How did something like this sneak up on me? Shouldn't there have been at least a clue that an anal blowout was nigh? I could have prevented this approaching cataclysmic event by taking care of it before I got in my car and subsequent traffic. But no, I had no idea what was on the horizon and possibly soon on my leather seats. This sly ninja terd snuck up on me like the ugly, annoying girl at a party you've been trying to avoid all night. The evil terd was rudely demanding an exit by pushing my rectal door to its limits like any angry drunk boyfriend pounding on his girlfriend's door after hearing she just blew his best friend. Much like microtubules in a cell, catastrophe was soon approaching. This evil needed to be flushed down the toilet like a belly up goldfish. I wish I could tell peristalsis to take five. If I had some thread and a needle, I would test every fiber of its tensile strength by sewing my bum closed. Luckily, no turtle head was poking out. I couldn't afford to let anything escape. If I did, there was no stopping it. It's like when a levy breaks, water everywhere. How I was able to summon the power to restrain this evil little terd still astounds me. Comparatively my butt could prevent a volcano from erupting and not even blink. That's how evil this little eager bastard was.

To be continued......