Last Tuesday I finished cleaning the deck, and then re-stained it. It was around 2PM and Ms Freud just finished with a client. I didn’t feel like making lunch, and neither did she.
I have mentioned previously that my two favorite fast food joints were Taco Bell and Wendy’s. I haven’t been to a Taco Bell since several people nationwide became ill … and one of the stores they closed was in the very town I grew up in, and where my parents still live. Fuck Taco Bell. Ms. Freud has never been inside a Wendy’s, and it’s been a few years since I’ve been. We both had the same exact small breakfast … something called “ho cake”, really, it’s a corn-meal pancake concoction along with a grapefruit, and I was hungry as hell. So, I said, “What the fuck, let’s be decadent and get a Triple Baconator”, which I did … she wimped out and only got the single.
The store is on the corner of South Avenue and Terril Road in Plainfield, NJ. Avoid it as if your life depended on it. The highly skilled tradesmen working there are all Darkies. The cashier is a young man, early 20’s, and very heavily tattooed like those NBA basketball players …. he even has “NIGGAZ” in large blue block font tatted on his neck …. I guess to inform us all of something he thinks we might not already know. I don’t know why …. maybe to “be nice” or make small talk … I blurted out “Nice tats there, man.” He just stared at me. It must have ruined his day that some old white fucker said that. I could just see the wheels turning in his head repeating Wendy’s Rulebook Rule #1; “Do no beat the shit out of White People even if they deserve it.” Anyway, I smiled and ordered. Ms Freud’s order appeared in about 1 minute, while mine took a full five minutes. That little fact may, or may not be, important to the story.
I noticed trouble around 4PM, two hours after eating this gourmet meal. My stomach started to ache. By 9PM, I was doubled over in pain. I’ve had plenty of food poisoning episodes in my life – we all have – as it’s pretty hard to avoid forever, but this one was turning into the Grand Doozy of them all. By midnight I was almost crying it hurt so bad.
Ms Freud was freaking out and demanding that I go to the Emergency Room. No can do! I’ve been blessed with great health for 61 years now. My White Celled Warriors have performed admirably up until now and there’s no reason to give up on them in my hour of greatest need. I don’t need no Foreign Army (anti-biotics) injected into me and fucking up a well oiled machine … or some doctor probing my asshole (another well oiled machine), or trying to get me to vomit, or whatever the fuck else they can guess at to make me feel better … and then charging me a thousand bucks or more for their service. Fuckit, what’s a little pain?!
Besides, I wasn’t even sure I had food poisoning. Ms. Freud was googling like crazy and informed me that food poisoning is almost always accompanied by either vomiting and/or diarrhea. I had neither symptom throughout. In fact, I couldn’t shit at all. So, around midnight she drove to a 24-hour pharmacy, and the pharmacist prescribed this 12 oz. blue bottle of power, Milk of Magnesia. A couple of capfuls and “he’ll be good to go”, he said. He lied. Ten hours later and pretty much draining the entire bottle is what it took. The out-come was horrific. My poo was almost black as coal, hard as a rock …. sorry about that info …. really, it looked like I was shitting coal. Not to mention that my pee was the color of dark rust. Well ….. this just FREAKED ME THE FUCK OUT!! I mean, what the hell is going on inside of me to produce this, well, shit?? Not to mention the other freaking-me-the-fuck -out symptoms over the next couple days; some difficulty swallowing, a fever that alternately left me either sweating or shivering all in the same hour, headaches. And the pain. Oh, Lord, the agony! I couldn’t even lightly touch my now bloated stomach without it hurting a lot. I do know people actually die from food poisoning, and I laid there thinking, “How fucking weird if it ended this way!!”. But, fuckmedead, I ain’t goin’ without a fight.
Time to call in reinforcements for the White Celled Warriors.
Playing “doctor” I decided that there’s some nasty new shit organism living inside my body that needs to be killed. Brilliant, no? So, I decided to mega-load up on foods that I know kill pathogens, bacteria, etc.
Whole Lemons including the peel incite the liver to produce more enzymes than any other food … I ate so many my wee-wee stared to burn when I peed. Crushed fresh garlic …. I ate so many my underarms smelled like garlic pasta. Vinegar and raw honey drink …. I drank so much I smelled like a tossed salad. Magnesium oil draws out toxins …. I put so much on my stomach that when Ms Freud leaned over to kiss me good-night she slid right off and fell to the floor. Raw yogurt by the gallons to get good PRO-biotic organisms back in my gut. Bananas. For the first 4-5 months of my life I was in a constant state of diarrhea so much so that the fake-doctors in the refugee camp thought I would die … but, somehow my mom discovered that bananas and dried bread were the ONLY food that I could keep down. So, whenever I get sick, I load the fuck up on bananas like crazy just out of respect (and , superstition) for their once Great And Honorable Service. Lastly, Jooish penicillin, aka, chicken broth … home made from organic whole chickens, not that store bought salty shit …. boiled chicken; the fat, skin, bones, cartilage, meat … I’m telling you, there’s some magical awesomely good ju-ju going on with that.
Lemons, garlic, vinegar, honey, yoghurt, bananas, and chicken broth. That’s been pretty much my diet for the past week. And, I’m back, baby!! Not 100% yet, but close. I have no friggen idea if that “diet” helped, or not, although I believe it did. Then again, my illness may have run its course by simply doing nothing … not an option for me … but, one never knows. I do know this; something very bad was causing havoc in my body, and now it’s not. My White Celled Warriors are now forever equipped with Anti-Wendy’s Slime Meat Fighting Skillz. They say, “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. I am almost tempted to get “CRACKA” tattooed on my neck, go back to that same Wendy’s, and say; “OK Niggaz, gimme a triple-baconator and your best shot wif whatever-the-fuck-else you got!”.
Ms Freud said to me, “You certainly have an interesting life.” Fuckmedead … isn’t that some ancient Chinese curse? Just what I need, another interesting story. I already have plenty. I could write a book, and offer a Stucky Reality Tour. I don’t want an interesting life. I WANT A BORING FUCKING LIFE!! Got that, God?? Boring!!!! Just leave me the fuck alone with these trials and tribulations.
On the other hand, it did give me something new to write about. I feel like I’ve just about shot my wad here. Is there any opinion that I could give that would surprise anyone? Hardly. You all know me about as well as I know myself. You guys know minutia such as my favorite basketball team (IU !!), and now you even know that I occasionally shit coal. What’s left? I have precious little new info. I re-read my posts before hitting ‘enter’, and they bore me. I’m just a clown, and not even my jokes are funny anymore. Not to me. Anyways.
I did miss posting here though.
