Totally gross

Well, it finally happened...I just changed my first poopy diaper. Let me take you back to the scene:

The morning was still. Almost too still. The day's first light had broken over the mountains, and the air was cool. The faint glow from my laptop illuminated the room. I didn't know that today I would lose my soul.

The boy took his early morning bottle sloppily if not uneventfully. But then I heard the Grunt. And another. And then a pop. An angel cried. That's when the stench of warm death wafted under my unwilling nostrils. Assassin!

Yes, I panicked. Fear was a factor for me, for I was alone with the boy. Could I wait a couple hours until Brenna woke up to have her change his diaper? Yes. I mean, No. Could I? Dammit.

In my frenetic mind, I replayed the past poopy-diaper changes I've seen. How did she manipulate the baby wipes and the flailing legs so expertly, so calmly? I unbuttoned the boy's pajamas, took my last breath, and unsealed the diaper.

I must have passed out momentarily, because the next few seconds were a blur. Then I remembered. I remembered everything. Oh, the humanity!

With a wipe in hand like a priest's cross, I took another look at the unholy mass. I knew what I had to do - what any reasonable man would do: I woke up the boy's mama.

My uselessness, no doubt, did not surprise her. That's why she woke up without complaint and proceeded with the thankless task, like a woman who has given up hope that help would ever come. But in a practically unfathomable act, I stopped her. I would do it myself, I bravely said with trembling lips.

After a few stretches and a silent prayer, I steeled myself for what I had to do. They would make me a major after this, but I wasn't in their army anymore...

I will spare you the details here, except for this witness: it wasn't human. A dozen baby wipes later, the dirty deed was done, and the threat dissipating with the foul air. In my proudest moment, I had lived so that others could regale my story in song. An hour or so later, I am beginning to regain my sense of smell and sight in my left eye.

But hark...was that ANOTHER grunt I just heard? Are the gods displeased, turning the sky dark? Crap. It's back. And this time it's personal. BRENNAA!!!......

- Patrick the Poo-Slayer