A really long story, but worth the read and laugh.

[Guest guest]

A really long story, but worth the read and laugh.

I laughed pretty hard at this story. I was reading the guy's

responses as tho he were Jim Carry from Pet Detective. Made me

laugh good. Mind you, its a gross story, so you decide if you have

the time to read it and try not to get too many mental images. haha

Anyways here we go......

A tapeworm story:

When I go to the bathroom, I usually expect it to be a non-event.

Yet that's where I first discovered an uninvited entity that called

me home.

I had finished doing what we all do at the toilet, stood, and

casually, turned around to look down and make sure. Among the

customary contents, there was a bright, clean, white thing down

there.

I looked carefully, becoming a momentary tea-leaf type. Strange. I

had never seen this before. Of course! I had eaten some spaghetti

the evening before - this was probably just a little undigested bit

that somehow got through.

Two days later, and there it was again. I was going to assume this

was a freakish thing, and flushed the toilet until a couple of days

later, there it was again, an albino king sitting on top of his soft

brown throne.

It was time to call my doctor. I described how a visitor had

developed the habit of showing up unexpectedly every couple of days

in my toilet bowl to say hi. Once in my doctor's office, I explained

how these bits were thin and white, but how I felt fine, otherwise.

My doctor sported a nice little trimmed goatee, and as I finished my

story he chuckled into it.

" My friend, " he finally said, " you have a tapeworm. "

" You mean ... I have a ... I gotta ... there's a para- a parasite

.... a living thing ... in me? "

I placed my hands on my tummy like a pregnant woman. I stood. " A ...

tapeworm? " I climbed onto the chair as though escaping a mouse.

There was more living in me than just me. An existence. A thing I

did not want.

The doctor, no longer chuckling, asked me to please sit down so he

could tell me how to get rid of it. I came crashing down to sit on

the chair, blathering, " How do I kill it? What's it take, doc?

Where's the bullet? Give me a pill! Make it go away! "

The doctor educated me. Broadly speaking, there were two types of

tapeworm. There was your pork tapeworm, and your beef tapeworm. Eat

some not-so-well-cooked pork or beef and you could get some eggs

inside you that nurture and hatch and grow big and strong, but, for

the pork parasite, only for a few meters inside the intestine.

However, your beef tapeworm was a mightier alien. In came cow food

slightly undercooked, but the beef worm could grow more than just a

few meters; it would keep adding to its body, lengthening and

snaking through the miles of intestine. I have it on good authority

that the small and large intestines could reach the moon, loop it

twice, then come all the way back down to earth and you'd still have

enough left over to play skip rope with.

This beef tapeworm would fill all this out until it eventually ran

out of intestine upon reaching the rear exit. My beef-based house

guest had grown so big, so happy, so healthy, had filled me up so

much that it now had to drop little bits of itself in the toilet

bowl every few days just to let me know how great he was doing.

Diagnosis: I was pregnant with a parasite that had started its life

going moo.

I thought hard how I could have become impregnated. Oh yeah. I had

sat in a restaurant looking at a menu that read, " Filet Americain. "

I was American, it said a filet; this was made for me. I assumed it

had to be a hamburger, or a steak. I ordered my filet, sat back and

waited to be served something recognizable with a little American

flag stuck in it.

They returned with a platter of raw hamburger; an equally raw egg

lay in a mini-crevice they had pushed into the top of the mound.

They showed it to me. I thought, This is special. As though this

lump of meat was some exotic fresh fish or an expensive piece of

sirloin they were displaying to me before cooking. I nodded,

thinking, Great, go cook it, put it in a bun and bury it in ketchup

and yellow mustard and onions and bring it back. Instead, my nod was

taken as agreement and they placed the dish in front of me.

I glanced around at fellow diners, to see if they were staring in

horror at me, but no. In fact, some guy two tables over actually had

the same thing and was mixing it all together in his dish and then

putting forkfuls of the stuff in his mouth.

So I squished the meat and egg together, stirred the mayonnaise in

there, mixed in some raw onions, added salt, pepper, sat back,

gathered courage, put some on the edge of my fork, slid it between

my teeth, slid it out clean. Let my tongue judge. Amazingly, it

wasn't disgusting. I ate, and ate it all. And hence the origin of my

beef tapeworm.

" Okay, doc, thanks for the lesson. But how do I get rid of it? " I

visualized the tapeworm securely hooked at the bottom of my throat

using the spiny little stabbing things they had, its mouth ajar, and

every time I ate, it ate; I drank, it swallowed; when I got caught

in the rain, it stayed dry.

My doctor handed me a prescription for a single pill. Take it in the

morning on an empty stomach, he said. This pill would kill the head

of the beast.

I headed directly to the pharmacist, purchased the pill, took it

home, created an altar, placed it there and worshipped it for

forty-five minutes as the answer to all my dreams and prayers. " Oh

mighty pill, death to the demon residing within... "

Next morning I popped out of bed, removed the pill from its altar

cushion, placed it on my tongue, closed my eyes, and swallowed,

declaring, " Take that, monster of the deep! You neverending strand

of unspooling spaghetti! " I thought that was that.

It wasn't.

About an hour later, I felt something move, squirm, within me. I sat

very still, as though listening to echoes in a canyon. Nothing.

Nothing. Nothing. There it was again!

There was a shifting inside my guts. Then there was a more sudden,

thrashing movement. And that's when I realized my tapeworm was going

through its death throes. It squirmed and twisted, spasming - and

why didn't the doctor tell me about this part, the bastard? My guts

cramped and churned. This went on for five, ten minutes, until, just

as suddenly, it subsided. It was over. My tapeworm was at peace.

I celebrated by going to lunch and ordering a large mixed salad,

something inert that had never breathed or mooed or snorted or had a

face. I was famished after the slaying of the dragon within, and

eager to eat for just one again. Before ordering dessert, I detected

that gentle pressure of my bowels demanding relief. So I asked

directions to the toilet.

Once within a locked cubicle, trousers down, in position, I relaxed

and thought pure thoughts. Upon completion, I leaned over, gathered

some toilet paper, reached down and under in order to wipe myself

clean, as usual. But for the first time in my life, when I wiped,

not everything wiped away. Something remained. Dangling.

I sat up ramrod straight, utterly immobile, my brain flying. I

hadn't thought further than swallowing the kill pill and then living

my life. I assumed my intestines would just magically absorb the

monster, and that would be that.

With immense dread, I reached over and got some more toilet paper.

Folded it over. Then, cautiously, like descending into a dangerous

lair, I reached down, went under, found me, wiped me, grabbed the

dangling entity, and pulled. Something long slithered out, giving a

distinctly zigzagging back and forth sensation within my intestines.

I dropped everything and held my breath. This could not be

happening. This was not my life. I began panting, all alone in a

locked cubicle in a half-decent restaurant with a dead tapeworm

hanging out my ass.

There was nothing to do but to wrap great gobs of toilet paper

securely around my hand, swallow hard, again reach down, again get a

grip on the thin and slippery thing, and tug. Again that slithering

feeling deep within. I pulled, and pulled again, and it kept coming.

I dropped the tissue and sat back. Jesus. How long was this sucker?

I remembered the doctor's brief education: to the moon twice, or

something pretty damn close.

I calmed the trembling of my hands. More toilet paper. Reached down.

Got a grip. Pull, slide. Pull, slide. I got into a rhythm like

someone on a chain gang, condemned to break rocks in smooth,

repetitious movements - no whack/crack, just pull/slide. I started

moaning an old spiritual, pulling and sliding, endlessly. Oh Lord,

bring me on home.

Five minutes of this, ten. Maybe fifteen. I thought about jumping up

and running, shouting from the toilet stall, " I can't take it

anymore, I just can't take it! " I had an image of my rushing through

the main hall of the restaurant and out onto the sidewalk and down

the street with this long, flowing, undulating, thin white membrane

snaking and snapping behind me, getting caught in pedestrian's feet,

having dogs and cats chasing it as if it were some sort of

plaything. So I kept sitting. Almost sobbing.

The routine reinstated itself. Toilet paper, stifling sobs, reaching

down, pulling it out, hand over hand, the zigzag feeling deep in the

guts, wondering about the meaning of life, pulling and lip trembling

and knowing I had killed it without thinking - never even given it a

name or or taught it to do tricks. Then suddenly, I reached down and

there was nothing there. Nothing dangling. Just air!

I leapt up straight into the air, spun around, and nothing spun

around with me. I faced the bowl. Slowly, cautiously, I moved my

face toward its opening, wary that the worm might leap up at my

throat. There it was. Twisted around in all sorts of swirls and

crisscrosses, resembling limp linguini.

My tapeworm did not pant, did not throb, did not shake or tremble.

It lay tangled in itself, seemingly harmless, and I had a momentary

urge of scientific inquiry, wondering whether I should not scoop it

out with my bare hands, place it in an airtight jar, and take it

with me on trips to show to people when I tell this story and relive

this life-changing experience. Share. Publish it online or in

learned print journals. With illustrations.

As if. I flushed that sucker goodbye.