|Biography of Grieb||
Observation 5.4 January 31, 2005
Have you ever found yourself in a compromising situation in that no matter what choice you make, it seems like you will regret the outcome? This "almost" happened to me in college - now nothing illegal was in the works, but something extremely painful was. I'll explain.
After trudging home from yet another "stimulating" class, I was overcome with the urge to "unleash some mud-eels." I scurried to the bathroom with some sort of sports-related reading material, and unloaded in the "Oval Office." the bowel movement was quite satisfying, and the stench was tolerable, no, it was more along the lines of enjoyable (quit giving me that look - you know that you enjoy the smell of your own "work.").
Finally, I decide enough is enough, and I clean up, then pull my pants up. Of course, I was in a hurry for some reason, maybe "Saved by the Bell" was on, I can't remember. So, I zip up my zipper, but I never checked to make sure that the "little soldier" was fully "behind the shades." Inexplicably, he had poked his head out through the boxers, and as the zipper came up, a decent portion of skin got caught.
The next few seconds are a blur for me. The pain was blinding, and it took everything in me not to start yelping like a kicked puppy (not that I've ever done this, but I've heard stories about kicked puppies). After I regained consciousness, I realized a few things. First, if I sit still, the pain is reduced. Second, I wasn't sure if I would be able to stay in the bathroom for the rest of my life. I started trying to fiddle with the zipper, but the pain was so immense, that I quickly curtailed this effort.
Next, I started pondering about how I would get myself out of this bathroom and to a hospital. My roommate, Matt, was in the appartment, and he might be able to get me a ride, but was it worth the humiliation? I mean, seriously, would a night at a bar go by without somebody mentioning to make sure to put my penis back in the pants after urinating? It was dicey at best, but what other choice did I have? I also wondered how I would get from the appartment to a car and then to the hospital, and what others would think. Certainly, I would have to cover the area up with some sort of shirt or something - some people might think that I have a gun-shot wound. In fact, I was thinking about spreading some ketchup over me, because this would definitly seem more macho than getting your bird stuck in the "fence."
Additionally, what would I say to the nurse or customer service person at the hospital when they asked me what I wanted? "Yes, I need to see a doctor, my penis is caught in my zipper...wanna see?" I was starting to stress out big-time about this. If only I could go back in time and make sure that I tucked away the "purple-headed warrior."
I finally decided that I needed to take care of the situation by myself, regardless of the pain and possible wounds. I summoned up the courage to just go for broke, and give the zipper one strong tug, and after some heavy breathing, the moment of truth arrived. I got a hold of my zipper - beads of sweat rapidly racing down my colorless face. I shakingly counted to three, and with a swift thrust, unzipped my pants. After once again coming out of a mini-coma, I felt a stinging pain in the region that was once engulfed in the teeth of the zipper. But it wasn't a shooting pain, and in fact there was also no blood. I had somehow managed to free myself from a seriously troubling situation. You better believe I thanked my lucky stars. You better also believe that I never, ever forget to secure the "bishop" after pulling up my pants - that is a pain you don't want.
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