Shit Mitt

I spring from bed with dread and in a heavy sweat. I bolt for the bathroom butt all a-quivering. Holy fuck I might not make it. My clench sprint down the hallway has me wondering what the cause is this time. A blur of meals goes through my mind that MacKay and I both had that could have possibly contained fish. The 10 for a dollar veggie balls at the Cambo only night market? They might have been covered in fish oil before fried. Could it be the fucking banana pancakes from Angkor Wat? We did mop the plates with them and I doubt sanitation is their main concern there. I dunno. Both of us sick isn’t coincidence.

I hit the bathroom door and have to give a second push to get it open. I don’t have time for mistakes! My arms are sore around my elbows. Legs sore too. I’m incredibly weak. Just drained. This thing has come on strong and fast. At least I’m not harfing like MacKay. Sucks too, I’ve only been out of the hospital a couple days, now I’m back in the mess.

I almost sideswipe some dude brushing his teeth as my inertia curves me across the bathroom floor in a far too fast and awkward scurry. I shoulder charge the stall door and it slams off the wall and rebounds to hit me as I bust in, pants already undone and dropping. “Whoa bro! You cool?”, “NO!”. Don’t even lock it, I spin for the seat. I’m barely gonna make this. I start the descent. Whoa I’m still going down, what the hell, did I miss it? I look back to make sure, but this swivels my mid section dangerously away from the bullseye. Damn these toilets are Cambodian sized and closer to the ground, I’ve lost my balance now expecting to have hit the seat already and come crashing down with way more force than intended. Knees up by my ears, my quivering ass slams into the porcelain and the entire contents of my body are instantly emptied in a bowl coating napalm blast. It’s done in a split second. It’s horrible. Toothbrusher guy is trying hard not to laugh I know it, “Damn dude, that’s nasty”, “yeah… I know.”

I take a long moment to recover. There’s a mosquito in here, fuck you. “Good luck, man”, and Toothbrusher is out. I make a shit mitt out of toilet paper just wrapping it around and around my hand knowing I’m gonna need a lot of surface area in the hazmat zone. Damn this toilet is awkwardly close to the ground. Shoo mosquito I don’t have the patience for you right now! Toe down, my heel lifts high to make room under my leg for the shit mitt. Even with the heavy padding it’s just a slippery nightmare. I’ve got a good first pass of the situation covering the shit mitt and I’m carefully working out an exit strategy for it when that dread mosquito in the stall bites down hard on my flexed calf muscle. Gah! you prick!

The sudden sting drives my heel to the ground which pushes my leg down to the seat clamping my arm and shifting it swiftly forward. Thus, the sopping shit mitt wrapped round my hand slams into my balls, cupping them perfectly and covering their entirety with slimy sick diarrhea shit. In this moment I think I started to cry. The universe has defeated me. I’m sick, I’m exhausted, I just covered my balls in my own shit. I’m so mad.

I go into a hissy shit fit trying to kill this mosquito. My failed attempts resemble some abstract artist just spraying the walls with paint as errant shit rays shoot from my fingers onto the wall. I’m mortified by this. Now I’m spitting on toilet paper and cleaning the walls. Fuck fuck FUCK!. And the mosquito gets me again on the foot while I do this. I’m in hell. I’m sick and I’m in hell.

I get the whole stall and my own situation sparkling clean, cleaner than the local temples, before I even attempt to re-establish the underwear. I’ve waited to make sure no one was around before I emerge. I’m currently the embarrassment of the universe.

I slink back down the hallway a hunched over despair and get back to the AC blasted dorm room. “You alright man. You’ve been gone a long time”, “Don’t talk to me. Don’t talk to me for the rest of the trip.”