This is the story of Dominic Dumpz, a kind of touchy subject or maybe a not-so-touchy subject; I mean gas, constipation and gastric bowels – a name Dominic gives to that awkward of irregularities – diarrhea. Because, he had to face it, he’d been there, those not-so-normal, sometimes embarrassing moments; where he had too much to drink, went out for an extra hot curry, and the following day the heavens open. Well, not so much his ‘heavens’ but his testy bowels. He recalled that it began with the thunder-down-under and ended up with ass-quake, smelly, nasty splatters.
At the other end of the scale, there are no ass-quakes, no smelly bellies or brown-colored Havana omelets. This of course is what he liked to call the consternation of constipation. You sit there on the bog and wait, and wait, and wait. The bowel muscles are going at it 100 miles per hour but nothing, or as they would say in London Cockney, nuffink! So it’s a case of acquiring stool softeners or crap composers, anything that will set fire to the guts, to ignite the bowels and get things moving.
He had to confess, he had not been a regular sufferer of constipation, and in fact his bowels and all associated bits and pieces had worked well over the years. Now he had been a great lover of spicy food going back to the early seventies. Of course, spicy Indian curries played a great part in his weekly diet, the hotter the better. So it was usually a chicken vindaloo curry where he would ask the restaurant to add extra spices. In a way he was testing himself as to how hot he could handle the devilishly hot Indian dishes.
But life changed for him earlier this year. He was working in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia as a Documentation Specialist. He went to work for the Saudi energy giant, Aramco. It was in fact his very first trip overseas to the country of Islamic purity – he later learned it wasn’t. Anyway, back then when you worked for Aramco they would put you up in ‘contractor’ accommodation. So he found myself bedding up in a small ‘four-man’ villa – a four-man because it had four bedrooms, a large lounge, kitchen and toilet.
He had been there for about a year when this Texan chap came to live in the villa. He could not remember his name but he had a strong Texan accent. Of course, they had to fend for themselves, usually the very basics: macaroni and cheese, mash and sausages, pizzas, that sort of thing. But this Texan guy, one weekend, asked if he’d like to try classic nachos. What? ‘Nachos?’ What in God’s name are nachos?
Anyway, it was late afternoon and he’d downed several home-made beers. Yes, the British/American expat community brewed their own alcoholic drinks in the compound. The authorities were aware of it but kept schtum. So Texan ‘Joe’ disappeared into the kitchen and returned with the nachos on a large tray. ‘Help yourselves guys.’ These were flat tortilla chips with refried beans on top, with cheese over the beans and topped off with slices of jalapenos. They had all been toasted. Dominic had never heard of jalapenos nor ever seen one in his life. So there they were three Brits and one Texan. To cut a long story short he absolutely adored this Texan offering, very hot, but the overall experience? He was in heaven, scrumptious, delectable, and delicious. The taste was just out of this world.
But . . .
It was early the next morning. Dominic awoke to searing stomach pains which he immediately put down to the Texan cuisine of the previous day. His whole lower body around the belly felt like an over-inflated balloon that could burst any minute. He had never experienced such blistering pain ever in his stomach – it was on fire – he began to sweat like a pig. But he tried to ‘keep it in’ and tried and tried and tried.
He rushed through to the toilet, sat on the bowl and SPLASH!! It was a gaseous gush of goodness knows what although he imagines the jalapenos were there somewhere. SPLASH! SPLASH! GUSH! The pains in his stomach were now augmented by the stinging, burning pain in his anus – his ass was on fire!
After about ten minutes one of his workmates knocked at the loo door. ‘Are you okay, Dominic?’ Forasmuch as he reckoned to have emptied his guts, the bowels kept pushing, pushing, pushing. This was obviously not natural. So his workmate took him to the nearby Aramco clinic. The doctor was Lebanese and after Dominic explained what had happened asked him to remove his trousers and pants and lie face down on the examination bench. ‘Now Mr. Dumpz I am going to check your anus,’ he said. ‘This will not hurt.’ He then stuck his finger up there; Dominic gave out a mild roar. ‘Ah, Mr. Dumpz, you have piles,’ he stated almost with a giggle.
Dominic left the clinic walking with a careful gait. Yes, he had developed piles, or hemorrhoids, those swellings of blood vessels around the rectum. And so it was. He was given two weeks’ medication and he was happy to say that the piles eventually disappeared. As for the jalapenos; he never touched them for about another 20 years – better the devil you know.
Having said that, these days Dominic cooks Mexican chili con carne regularly and augments the dish with a plate of home-made nachos (jalapenos included)!Recommend0 Simily SnapsPublished in