Chicken butt.
You have to be a little demented, I think, to work in the medical profession. I know quite a few doctors and nurses and they are all pretty fucked in the head. Now that I think about it, all of the police officers, firemen and EMTs that I know are pretty messed up, too. Alright, let’s be honest here; most everyone that I know is fucked in the head and that includes myself. If you've read more than one of my stories, you can count yourself in there, as well.
This is a story that was related to me by someone I know that works in the medical profession. Due to privacy and other concerns, there will be some information that will be left out and I will not be posting any screen captures of our text conversation. I don’t know whom this happened to, I just know someone that was on duty at the time that it happened. I do not know any personally identifiable information about this person. This is not, I repeat, NOT something that happened to me. Oh, and don't try this at home. Or, do try it and email me about your experience. I'll make you famous. Okay, I won't make you famous, but I'll embarrass the fuck out of you in front of several hundred people.
A friend of mine works at the ER in an inner city hospital. He occasionally tells me some hysterically funny stories about what happens during his shift in the emergency room.
This is one of those…
For the sake of this story, we’ll call my friend, “Paul.”
I got a text from Paul, the other day. A man had come into the ER complaining of extreme discomfort and was very, very embarrassed. As it turns out, there was a very good reason for his discomfort and embarrassment; the man had shoved an entire raw chicken, up his ass.
Paul: Most unusual complaint at triage, today, “I have a raw chicken stuck up my butt.”
Kind of makes you wonder if the guy stated this in a casual way. You know, like it’s an every day kind of thing, to walk around with raw poultry in your ass. It also reminds me of an old joke. What’s the difference between kinky and perverted? Kinky is when you use a feather and perverted is when you use the entire chicken.
Paul: Must check to see if it’s a full moon tonight.
I would definitely say that having a chicken stuck in your ass is something that one could safely refer to as a “full moon”.
Me: I call shenanigans, on that one. Was it the whole chicken?
I don’t believe it and yet, I’m clearly ready to accept it and very much want it to be true.
That’s really fucked up.
Paul: Whole small fryer! Gives new meaning to “chicken in a can”… lol!
www.seriouseats.com/2009/04/whole-chicken-in-a-can-taste-test.html
It even has its own Facebook fan page:
www.facebook.com/pages/SWEET-SUE-WHOLE-CHICKEN-IN-A-CAN/126931264690?_rdr
Get some today and stock up now! You never know when civilization might end or you’ll need a new sex toy:
www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00E3AYVA8/ref=pd_aw_sbs_1?pi=SL500_SS11
Paul: Truly, it is very perplexing. I can’t imagine rummaging thru the fridge looking for something to make for dinner… seeing the chicken and thinking… “Hmmm… I wonder how that chicken would feel up my ass?” Out of all the choices freely available during the course of the day, this guy chooses chicken.
Upon reflection, this last statement makes me wonder how many different “freely available choices” Paul has considered shoving up his own ass, but hey, who am I to judge? Truly, it is very perplexing…
Me: At least it wasn’t alive, when it went in there. Maybe it’s his own special marinade?
And if the chicken had been alive, that might have given new meaning to the term, “hen-pecked”
.
Me: I’m going to pee myself, if I don’t stop laughing. People are already looking at me like I’m insane. I’m used to that, though.
Yeah, definitely not a text conversation that I should be having at work. Fuck it.
Paul: Insanity is shoving raw poultry up your butt. And waiting three days to seek medical attention.
Holy shit! Three days. This guy had a chicken in his ass, for three fucking days. WTF? No, seriously. WTF??? How in the fucking fuck, do you manage to function with a chicken in your ass to begin with, but to hold out for three days? I’d imagine you might feel a little bloated. Just a tad. Another thing; did he think that he was just going to pass it? I’ve heard of shitting a brick, but a bird? Shouldn’t he have left a drumstick out, you know, just to keep a handle on things?
Wait, it gets better…
Paul: The poor guy now has salmonella and has to go to the OR (operating room/surgery).
Well, no shit (bad pun intended). He wrecked his rectum.
Me: Three days? Not exactly the intellectual type, is he?
Paul: I feel bad for him. He was so embarrassed.
Not to mention fucking stupid. And no, I don’t even feel anything even remotely resembling sympathy, for that dumbass.
Paul: Just think… if he had not come in, he could have died from embarrassment.
I have to disagree. The guy would have died from stupidity, not embarrassment. The embarrassing part is having come so close to winning a coveted Darwin award, only to have it snatched away at the last second by the fickle fingers of fate.
A short while later and I’ve got picture mail. It’s an x-ray that shows someone with a chicken, shoved up their ass. It’s depraved, demented and disgusting. It’s fucking awesome.
Two days later…
Me: I wish that I could write about the chicken man. I’m still giggling over that one and still trying to figure out how he got it in there.Paul: I would be interested to know how much lube it took to accomplish that monumental task.
Dude, don’t do it! Please! Use one of those “freely available choices” instead.
Paul: And you could certainly write about it w/out it being a HIPAA violation… but none of us knowing all the details, it would be difficult to make a story out of it.
Me: I don’t need the whole story, lol. The text convo and the x-ray work just fine. I just won’t include any screen shots of the texts.
The next day…
Paul: Cornish game hen according to the OR report.
Me: Any explanation of why?
Paul: He told the psych nurse he tried navel oranges, cukes (cucumbers) and baking potatoes before, but the chicken was the biggest food item he’d accomplished. He said it made him cum harder and several times.
Kids, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!!! Not only is it dangerous, but it is just so wrong, on so many levels. Plus, it’s not a very balanced diet. I’ll bet this guy is a chef.
Paul: Btw… he is a chef.
Of course he's a fucking chef, I didn’t think he was a fucking rocket scientist. I know one restaurant that I won't be eating at anytime soon and chicken is definitely off of the menu.
Me: What restaurant was it?
Paul: Do you remember XXX XXXXX? We ate there when you came to visit.
Me: Get the fuck out! GET. THE. FUCK. OUT. There's no fucking way!
Paul: You're right. There's no way. I'm just messing with you. Maybe...
Me: You're such a dick.
Me: Anyway, I’m sure he was feeling quite accomplished. Was he planning on roasting the bird, after marinating it in his own special blend of secret herbs and spices?
Paul: That is definitely the pot calling the kettle black.
Me: Me? Perish the thought. Besides, it’s an admirable quality.
Paul: A good writer understands his material. If you’re gonna write a story about him, you really should know firsthand what you’re writing about. I don’t want to know the details and don’t come crying to me if it doesn't work out for ya!
Me: Well, there is a turkey in the freezer…
Paul: Call the Butterball hotline first… the defrosting instructions might be different if it’s going in the ass instead of the oven.
Me: Good idea. Defrosting it, I mean. Wouldn't want a brain freeze.
Me: Clearly, I wasn't thinking.
Paul: I may be overstating the obvious here… but anyone who contemplates shoving a large piece of poultry up their keister already has a brain freeze.
Why, thank you, Colonel Obvious. Hey, the fucker got a promotion.
Paul: I’m not judging.
That’s good. Judge not, as the Bible says.
Paul: The heart wants what the heart wants.
Me: Does that mean you’re okay, with small poultry? Would you like me to send you some quail?
Paul: That is so thoughtful. I do not like quail though.
Tried it before, eh? How much lube did that take? Truly, it is very perplexing…
Me: It’s the thought that counts.
Paul: A true friend.
We started chatting about other things and then got on to the subject of raising teenagers and helping to guide them towards making the correct life choices.
Me: Do this, don’t do that. Never shove a chicken up your ass. Need to prepare them for the world.
Teach your children well, as the song says and never miss an opportunity to turn a life lesson into a true learning experience.
Paul: Never shove a chicken up your ass should be ingrained in them from an early age. Important life lesson, I say!!
Obviously, you don’t consider it that important, if you only gave it two exclamation points. Everyone knows that the really important shit gets three exclamation points. Three, motherfucker, three!!! One, two, fucking three!!! My work is never done.
At that point, I had to call my son, to talk to him about the inappropriate cover photo that he had just posted to Facebook, so that was the end of our text conversation. When/If I find out what became of Chicken Man, I’ll post an update.
Let’s take away some important life lessons from this little story. While fresh fruits and vegetables are certainly delicious and I’m sure they can be lots of fun, they are not very hygienic and should not be used as sex toys, even if you plan on eating them after playtime is over. The same goes for animals. I know that food is sexy and all, but please refrain from shoving it up your ass.
No chickens were harmed in the writing of this story.
If you enjoyed reading this story, please give this one a chance:
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