The Tale of the Constipated Pirate

I just checked my last several entries and it’s been a few (nay, several!) entries since I talked about poop. I apologize to anyone who may be a somewhat regular reader, since I try to keep about a third of my entries dedicated to feces.

Let me tell you a story.

It begins, like most, in the emergency room. It was a quiet night, no one was actively dying and time was slowly ticking by with me on cruise control and feeling little quirky after several large glasses of coke and an even larger glass of coffee.

Then… HE came in.

I actually didn’t have anything against the guy. It would be impolite to say he was demented, but most adult males rarely wear Sponge Bob pajama bottoms and orange sunglasses in public at night.

What occurred was simply too odd, too surreal, and too fantastic not to share, thus I recreated the splendor in the following short screenplay.  Events slightly changed to protect the innocent.


“The Tale of the Constipated Pirate”

I play me, a street smart ER doctor who just burned his tongue after chugging too much coffee causing him to sound like Scooby-Doo.

Mr. Frownyboom will be playing the part of himself, who for unknown reasons sounded like a down on his luck pirate who happened to be constipated.

5…4…3…2..1… Action

Me: Raah, Herro, I’m Dr. Brawn.  Row can I relp you?

Mr. Frownyboom: Aaaarrg! Aye matey, Saint’s and begorah, I be thinkin’ me bum is a dark poxy void full of the concrete, doncha know.

Me: Rikes!  Rat really  rounds painful (hee-hee-hee)

Mr. Frownyboom: Aar! I be trying to weigh anchor, but not even a cracker for me parrot be comin’ out my port-hole.

Me: Rah, I hear you.

Mr. Frownyboom: Yar!

Me: Yar.

Mr. Frownyboom: Yaaar, can ye be takin’ a cutlass and burrowing my poopdeck to freedom, matey?

Me: Ruh-roh.

…So I check out Mr. Frownyboom who is horrifically fecally impacted.  Thus, burnt tongue and all, I had to dis-impact him.  I never found out when he last had a good bowel movement, but I guessed it was sometime back when the Macarena was a thing.

Mr. FB: YAAAR! Matey, it feels as if ye be pullin a Kraken from my keester!

Me: Ranks for that visual.  I’m not really riking this myself.

Mr. FB: YAAAAAARG! It feels as if ye be pulling my soul out me rudder!

Me. (It just… keeps… coming)

Mr. FB: Yaaaar (a few deep breaths). Aaaah… Thanks matie.

Me: Rou need to eat more fiber.  Try eating some ralad!


Literally a good sized feces baby later, he was thanking me profusely after I finally finished.  But, wow. I would have taken a picure of it, but I did not want to blow anyones mind (not true, if not for HIPAA it would be my screenshot on my facebook page).

Granted, that’s a scary story, but I know one thing that’s even more terrifying (or maybe it’s just me)



So remember kiddies, if you haven’t gone in 3 (or 18) days, go to the pharmacy and give something (anything) a try.

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