Me and My Anus

My anus and I have have had a long and complex, even vexed, relationship. It goes back to my infancy, when Anie had free rein, through potty training, when I brought him to heel, on into childhood, which had its ups and downs, through adulthood, and into senility.

What I mainly noticed over the years was that Anie was unreliable and unpredictable. His job, as I understood it, was to serve as the final piece of my digestive process, to eliminate the unneeded, rejected, even toxic bits of my dietary input. To his mind, such as it may have been, his job was to rule over my entire physiology, to ride herd on all the other organs, to tell them what their functions were and when and how to perform those functions. He also required fawning praise of the other organs before performing his excretory duties. I long wondered what the cause of my frequent constipation might be, before my penis leaked it to me on condition of anonymity.

Examples of toadying from Organic Staff Meetings:

Heart: "You are the greatest anus in history! I sure couldn't beat you! In fact, I couldn't beat at all without your anal ministrations!"

Brain: "I think only of you, Glorious Anus! You really make me think!"

Lung: "You are the ultimate breath of ... fresh air, Anie!"

Constipation wasn't Anie's only trick. At other times, he would vent his displeasure by spewing, drenchingly and unpredictably. These tended to be times when he remembered that he was, after all, just an asshole.

In the end, I had to have him surgically removed, though I do wish him well in his new job as President of the United States.