Brandon Diehl

Deviated Septum

I’d been eating nothing but cabbage and eggs for a month
because I’d read on some health website 
that eating nothing but cabbage and eggs could lead 
to weight loss. Apparently this type of diet 
could also lead to nutrient deficiencies, but I didn’t care. 
I was tired of being fat and unloved.

You were banging on the door. You said, “You’ve been 
on the toilet for an hour. And you keep flushing 
the toilet and I keep thinking you’re done
and it’s driving me nuts and I need to piss so bad! 
I’m about to just go piss on the lawn.”

You were right. I did keep flushing the toilet.
But I wasn’t doing it to fuck with you.
I can’t explain why, but eating nothing 
but cabbage and eggs for a month
was causing my shit to have this odor like manure.
I was flushing the toilet between turds to contain it.

You said, “Please. I’m dying out here. I literally feel
like you’re trying to torture me because you’re mad about
whatever the fuck we fought about earlier. 
Can you hurry the fuck up?” Then you said, “Dude!”

I hated when you called me “dude” because it made me feel 
like we were roommates or something. Like bros.
Bros who high-fived instead of hugging. Bros who shared
the number one priority of sitting a heterosexual distance
apart on the couch. Bros who had the combined 
emotional intelligence of a toilet. Hey dude, 
come look what just came out of my ass. Which 
JerseyShore cast member do you think this looks like?

You repeated, “I literally feel 
like you’re trying to torture me.”

But I wasn’t. I wasn’t trying to fuck with you. If I wanted
to fuck with you, I would have left the door unlocked
for you to open as you pleased, unleashing 
my diarrhea love song to knock you to the floor 
like a stampede of oversized livestock.

I decided to stop flushing until I was done, 
and to be done ASAP. I scanned the room for a bottle 
of Febreze or something close to Febreze. Nothing. 
All I could do was pray to the bowel movement gods. 

I planted my feet on the toilet seat, then made 
a bodybuilder face and pushed. The shit came out fast 
and chaotic. I thought of driftwood descending a waterfall. 
A tangle of sewer snakes rose to my nostrils: rushes 
of ammonia and sulfide and various intestinal problems 
I might have known the names of had my fat lazy brain 
ever absorbed anything in health class.

The stench reminded me of when you and I
used to have “cow days.” We were living with my parents 
in the country, and sometimes we’d wake up 
and one of us would say, “Cow day.” Then we’d get in my car 
and I’d drive us to this farm. We’d walk up to the fence 
of the pasture and the cows would gawk. 
Sometimes they’d go, “Merrrrr.” Sometimes 
it would be cold and I’d say, “You goofballs better 
put on some jackets!” Sometimes it would be raining 
and I’d say, “Where are your umbrellas, you crazy fucks?!” 
You’d always laugh like it was your first time 
hearing me criticize the cows 
for their lack of concern with the weather.

My eyes were prison cells. My tears
had just finished plotting their escape. I cleaned
my face with toilet paper, then cleaned my ass
with my tears. I flushed and pulled up my pants, 
then made flapping chicken motions 
in front of the open window.

When I opened the door and stepped out, you brushed 
by me and shut yourself in. I listened to you pull down 
your pants. I listened to you pissing, envisioning it. 
Then I envisioned myself pissing, too. I envisioned us 
as cows, pissing and shitting together. We pissed and shit 
on trees and grass and dandelions and atop endless marshes
of more piss and shit. I envisioned myself as an ugly cow
panting with a heart disease and you as a healthy cow
wearing a crown. And we were pissing and shitting on dirt
and worms and the side of a barn. We were pissing 
and shitting on other cows and each other and we were
projectile shitting into our own food and water.

Then it started to rain. The vomiting flies left our eyeballs. 
We were naked and cold and zombie-like, but we smiled
cartoon smiles. We were happy zombie cows.  
Tainted-meat soulmates. Dry-rotted bones wrapped 
in wedding vows. And the voice of God parted the clouds, 
shaking the fertilized earth as daffodils rose 
from their graves. The voice of God said, “Holy fuck, dude! 
Did you shit out one of your organs in here?”