Tuesday, August 10, 2004

A lump in my pants

After I drained the lizard tonight I scratched my ass and thought I felt something out of the ordinary. Call me crazy, but I’m a bit paranoid about tumors shooting from my ass or nipples or wherever the hell else my family has gotten them. So like any curious soul would do, I dropped my pants and turned in a circle trying to get a glimpse. No luck, and I felt like a Schnauzer. I backed my ass up to the bathroom counter hoping for a better view.

“Jay, what in the hell are you doing?”

Shit! I quickly jerked my pants back up to my waist. “Are your knuckles broken? What are you doing in here?”

“I asked you first.”

She was grinning, snickering if you ask me. Dammit, this is a medical emergency. "I felt a mass if you must know,” I explained, emphasizing the dire seriousness of the matter.

“A mass on your ass?”

She threw her head back and laughed. I don’t need this bullshit. I could have melanoma here and she’s playing some fucking Dr. Suess rhyming game. “Jasmine, get out. My malignancy and I would like to be alone for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Turn around, Jay. Show me where you felt it.” Her jovial mood was not sobered a bit despite her words.

Reluctantly, I lowered my jeans and underwear enough for her to see the area while she held my shirt up out of the way. “Do you see it?” I heard her gasp. Oh, shit! “What is it? What do you see?” I knew it! “Is it large?”

“No, it’s small. Hold still, okay, babe?”

“What are you gonna—OWWW!!! What the fuck?” I spun around, shielding my ass from whatever the hell she just did to it. “Jesus Christ! Is it cancer?”

She held up her index finger. On the tip of it was a little white sticker that read “Inspected by #37”.

“Your biopsy was negative. I performed a stickerectomy.” She smiled and stuck the ass inspection sticker on my shirt and left me and my ass alone in the bathroom to recuperate.

I think she takes pleasure in humiliating me.