Every year since 1980 my family has congregated in Ft. Wayne, Indiana  (Ft. Fun) for Thanksgiving.  I would guess that we are no weirder than any other family, we just have some stomach “issues.”

In the late 1990’s we ran through a string of years where the chefs would consistently under cook the turkey.  It got to the point where eating the turkey was like jumping out of a plane, you knew there was a calculated risk but decided to take it.  “If I don’t jump, I look like an asshole, besides everyone else is jumping, so I guess I have to too.”  It was adult peer pressure.

In 1998 we had a rough year.  28 people ate the turkey and twelve of us got violently sick.  The house is big… but there aren’t twelve toilets, so people had to leave and mark their ground.  Put a flag on a toilet and claim it as their own.  I went to my aunt’s house and set up camp in her kitchen bathroom.  I brought in a book, a few magazines and a blanket because I knew I was in for a long night.

Periodically my Mom would do her motherly thing and knock on the door asking, “Do you need anything?”  I’d ask for water or 7Up and when she would bring things to the door we’d barely crack it open because I was completely naked.  I figure if I’m going to be shitting non-stop, pulling my pants down every ten minutes seems like a complete pain in the ass.  (Pun intended)

After about five hours of extreme power shitting and wiping, my bunghole was raw.  Mom came to the door and asked me if I needed anything. 
“I don’t know?  My ass is raw from all this wiping?  Any ideas?” 
She told me to hold on, she’d be right back.  She returned and cracked the door, handing me a bottle of Vaseline Aloe Vera Lotion.
“Squirt a little of the lotion on the toilet paper next time and wipe with that.”
Mom’s have the best ideas. I’m sure a little lotion will feel nice on my chaffed asshole.

I piled the lotion on the next wad of toilet paper and then went in for the wipe.  What we did not consider was the alcohol in the lotion being rubbed directly on my abrased hole. 

I jumped up off the toilet and ran buck naked and screaming through the living room where my parents, aunt and uncle were quietly watching football.  I dove into the nearest bathroom, turned the shower on full blast, took the shower head off and shoved it between my burning butt cheeks. 

Mom came running into the shower,
“What is wrong?!”
“Mom, that lotion had alcohol in it and you just had me rub it on an open wound. It stings!”
“Well, Chip that is no reason for you to yell words like that. You we’re yelling words just now that I did not even know you knew!”
Really? Are we playing naive now Mom?

I had just run naked through the living room, I had a shower nozzle shoved in my ass,  I had been crapping for five hours and now I was being scolded for my language?

Since then I have decided I no longer jump out of planes.  I prefer to fly around in the plane and watch everyone else jump out.  I like to sit back and wait for one of the idiots chutes to not open and for them to go crashing to the ground.

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