I nearly died. Last night I was feeling a bit full and instead decided to leave my dinner and reheat and come back to it. This was a serious blunder. I sort of reheated it 3-4 hours later and went to bed. Later in the night my stomach was doing somersaults and I was blowing the duvet off my bed.
Then the pie decided to start stabbing my stomach. Then it started stabbing my anus. At 6am like a wounded animal, I hobbled to the toilet to grant the evil pie the exit from my body that it was so forcefully demanding.
As the semi-digested pie exploded from my pursed balloon knot, I knew I was going to be in for quite an ordeal. The rotting vapours filled my bathroom and the fruit of my colon drizzled its way down the toilet bowl and into the now murky waters below. This pie was holding me captive and I was frightened to leave my hunched over position for fear of reprisal.
Some 20 minutes later I stood on shaking legs, a red toilet ring seat impression emblazoned across the backs of my thighs and began to gently dab at my tattered arsehole with some toilet paper.
I washed my hands, wrapped my dressing gown around me and went back to bed.
And then came the cold sweats. The bastard pie hadn't finished with me.
Exhausted I couldn't get any peace. My body was shivering as the sweat soaked into my bed. It felt like the colour was leaking out of me. White, sweaty and shaking I began to wonder why the cosmos had singled me out for such a cruel, untimely and painful demise. I drifted in and out and woke some few hours later.
Like the trooper I am I decided to get up and get ready. I went back to the scene of the crime to brush my teeth and have a wash. I hadn't opened the window last time I left the bathroom and the spirit of my pie was still waiting to greet me, gently hanging in the air in a now more diluted form. With my nostrils still filled with fecal molecules I looked into the mirror. I looked like shit. One of my eyes had exploded and was badly blood shot. The other seemed to be making efforts to catch up. I was drawn and ill looking. My skin looked papery and old. The pie stabbed me again to remind me I still had penance to pay.
I've had an awful day, guts raging, shivers, sweats, stinging eyes, so tired and a sore starfish. In fact it feels like I've been roughly raped by a heavyweight boxer.
Will sleep well tonight. I am feeling a bit better now. I think the enraged pie is beginning to forgive me.
Please say nice, soothing and reassuring things. I feel fragile and emotional.
