Merry Fucking Christmas

By Ben Rillie © 2006

During the Christmas of 2004, I received a really shitty present. Appendicitis. If you haven't had it, count yourself lucky. It is by far the most painful experience that I've ever encountered. Before, during and after the operation I experienced pain and discomfort that was so bad, it was easily one of the worst times in my life. It was also one of the funniest.

It started in the afternoon. I had just finished a pepper salami, hot coppa and swiss on an onion roll from Genova's (purveyors of the finest sandwiches in the Bay Area) and was trying to get through my usual post-lunch coma. More often than not, a Coke will bring me back to life but on that day I was feeling more lethargic than my usual. The other thing that was bothering me was the discomfort I was feeling in my stomach. I was feeling a little bloated (which I attributed to the sandwich) and I felt like I needed to pass wind (when do I not?). But the problem was, I couldn't seem to get out any flatulence. It was only a minor annoyance and I figured my ass would fart when it was damned well good and ready, so I put it to the back of my mind. The day went on and as knock-off time approached, one of my co-workers asked me for a ride home. "No problem," I said, "it's on the way home." When I got up out of my office chair, something didn't feel right.

You know how when you go to the movies, you order the trash can sized soda, box of Raisinets and then you go and find your seat. You place the soda in the cup holder with the thought that it will last you for a large part of the movie. You sit through those insipid commercials, watch the trailers for upcoming features, reach down to take a drink and the cup feels light. You've already consumed three quarters of your tasty beverage. You curse yourself on two accounts:

1. You won't have much to drink for the remainder of the movie.
2. You're probably going to have to piss pretty soon.

Then the movie starts and you forget all about it and start enjoying yourself. About 45 minutes pass and you start to feel something in your mid-section. A pressure. Your bladder is filling up and you know that you'll have to evacuate very, very soon. But it's the good part of the movie. There's one man, a loner who's wanted in ten states but who's really just misunderstood and he's about to beat the crap out of fifty guys that are much larger than him and have chainsaws. Or there's a sex scene coming up and you really want to see what Scarlett Johansson's nipples look like. Whatever. You're not budging. After a little while, the pressure subsides and you talk yourself into thinking that it's really not that uncomfortable. You enjoy the rest of the movie and it ends. Then you go to get up. A pain shoots through your abdomen and you have to piss like you've never pissed before. You can't even stand up straight. It's excruciating. It's shocking. You knew there was a problem, but you weren't really aware that it was this dire. You gotta do something, and fast. This was what it felt like when I got out of my office chair. I knew there was something wrong, but I didn't know the severity of the issue. Now it was becoming apparent.

Now it felt like I really had to fart. Like when you're on a first date and you're trying really hard to get laid so you stop doing all the things that define you as a person. Things like burping, farting, chain smoking, making lewd jokes and drinking whatever is put in front of you. Now a normal person would've started to worry a bit and maybe considered seeing a doctor. Not me. The only thought in my tiny, tiny brain at the time was, "Man, this is going to be a monster of a fart," and I immediately pondered the best way to record it so I could email it to my friends.

My friend was standing at the door, waiting for his ride home, so I collected my things and we went on our merry way. After I dropped off my co-worker, the pressure felt like it was increasing and it was becoming more and more painful. Once again, instead of thinking about seeking medical help, I was relishing the idea of cultivating a fart so powerful that it may tear the very pants I was wearing as it exited my ass. As I thought of this, I giggled like a small girl as I drove home.

Ben Rillie is works for an animation company in Northern California who is moving to Las Vegas to play poker.