TALKING OUT HIS ARSE

 Pete’s arse is taking over his life and there’s nothing he seems able to do about it. Yes, most people would say he had life-long record of talking crap to family, friends, colleagues, or anyone unlucky enough to be stuck in a lift with him.

 

But three years back, the wearing effect of over fifty years pumping out verbal diarrhoea resulted in Pete’s vocal cords failing. His GP, Dr. Crackpot, said “The man spoke so much crap, his vocal cords gave up on him.” Not the most scientific diagnosis, but as the old proverb goes, “A bit of honesty keeps the vocal cords oiled,” but don’t quote me on that. To the delight of many long-suffering colleagues, they didn’t have to hear the puerile comments he allowed to leave his mouth, unchecked, for so many years. It seemed a win-win situation.

 But for Pete, it meant carrying a pad and pen around; hoping he had long enough to scribble a note when he saw someone he wished to throw some verbal diarrhoea at. Unlike so many years before, now the targeted colleague could escape by looking the other way, pretending not to see him and walking a little faster. Pete was also at the mercy of the more childish colleagues, who thought it funny to hide his pad and pen.    

 Learning sign language was proposed as an obvious alternative to talking, but after dozens of frustrating classes for the teacher, it eventually became clear to his teacher and Pete, he was just too thick to pick it up. Apparently for the first time in the teacher’s career, he was forced to abandon the classes. Nonetheless, Pete had to find a way of communicating to get his work done. He didn’t help his situation, because most of his co-workers viewed him as an irritating little, two-faced sneak and were unwilling to help.

 He could have left, and wouldn’t have been missed, but, to everyone’s regret, he insisted on staying. Even if he was considered a passenger on the shop floor, HR were determined his views needed to be heard on work related issues. So, the company was happy to have him doing remedial jobs that didn’t need another worker or much explaining, such as sweeping the picking isles of the warehouse. The HR Department could fill certain boxes in and they seemed understanding. But there were people he wanted to talk to outside work, albeit few wished to reciprocate, such as the pizza delivery man.

After much head-scratching from the alcoholic company doctor, as well as more reliable specialists, found the problem too baffling, until an idea was put forward by a German specialist, who claimed to have found a strange, if not ingenious solution.

 

Doctor Fritz. His real name, had specialized in making monkeys talk through their arm pits for many years; often regarded as modern science’s most expensive failure. The previous year he undertook an operation that he had hoped would enable a person to speak through their rectum. On his website, he’d boasted of the ground-breaking operation; including a video of the six-week recovery period.

When asked if the operation was a success, the great German doctor blushed,

“I am afraid not… There were small complications.”

 

Even so, the company and Pete had nothing to lose and Pete went ahead with radically new operation. To those who may never have considered talking out of their arse, it may seem a strange new idea, but Pete said he was prepared.  

After some difficulties and a complex set of incisions and stitching, three days passed before Pete could sit down. No easy task to get used to the notion of his arse now being the point of his communication with the world, but Pete was the best placed person to make the transition. No longer than a week after the operation, Pete had worked out how to use arse to simulate a vocal box in the process of talking.

 

Of course, the proof of the pudding is up Pete’s arse and it was only considered a success when he was able to speak. Pete stepped up to the plate here, as expected. The one drawback to it was he seemed to fart as the same time., yet he could actually be understood.

 

Soon, Dr. Fritz, and other grandees of the medical profession, unveiled Pete to the worlds’ press as a marvel of modern medicine and speech development. One unsure reporter asked for a demonstration to prove the theory. So, Pete bent down, dropped his trousers and fated out the words “hello,” simultaneously producing a whiff of methane in the air. Everyone held their nose and clapped in applause at the same time, not an easy feat. The operation was declared a great success.  From that day Pete was able to communicate again. Albeit with a fart, but nonetheless Pete could speak again.

 

If Pete needed to be very clear, he’d have to take his trousers down and bend over at a right angle, yet with his trousers up he could be understood enough to hold brief and very smelly conversations. However, no sooner had Pete mastered the art of talking out of his arse a new and unexpected problem arose.

 

 

The more concerning problem now was his arse started to talk without being prompted to do so, saying phrases and words out of turn that were not meant to be uttered. First, he believed there was a malfunction of the anal passage, but soon it became clear there was a more sinister reason behind these unexpected outbursts. A good example of this problem happened when a very pretty woman from accounts walked past Pete in the hall way. Pete knew she was out of his league so looked away as best he could to avoid eye contact.

 

He’d admired the girl’s very nice figure over the years, but was wise enough not to attempt to say anything. He looked out of the window and once the woman had walked past he then turned to walk away. However Pete’s arse was already beginning to talk out of turn and before Pete could clench his buttocks in time his arse shouted out “Nice buttocks darling!”  The woman turned round in a fury of anger and asked “What the hell did you just say?” Pete was unsure of what to say so said nothing and was promptly slapped in the face. As well as being slapped, Pete was warned to keep his perverted thoughts to himself.

 

This incident is a good example of the proceeding battle for control between Pete’s mind and his arse, over what he wanted to say. It started with small words out of turn, or in conversations that made Pete look like a pervert. As his co-workers knew he was a strange person he was just laughed at a little more.

 

 

Such incidents became more common, and in awkward places, such as in the staff canteen in front of everyone, humiliating Pete in to making sporadic apologies to disgusted colleagues. Most irritating for Pete is when he has to use the toilet, where his arse will regularly make comments about anyone in the next cubical, when they are washing their hands.  

 

“What was up your arse last night then?”

 

His arse doesn’t seem to care about senior members of staff either, causing Pete some considerable embarrassment and concern that a disciplinary meeting may be just around the corner. With the increasingly rebellious arse, Pete is forced to say sorry, but recently his arse offended someone and when Pete tried to explain, his arse butted in,

 

“You heard.”

 

Because his arse is misbehaving so frequently now, Pete is insulted, slapped and mistrusted by. Sure, he was considered a mistrustful sneak but his arse now lets out a little snigger whenever Pete is slapped.  

 

Recently he has started to put a cork up his arse whenever he goes to the shops, walks the dog, catching the bus or any other public activity. He knows life can’t go on like this..  

 

Two nights ago, when Pete was considering taking an extra pudding after his meal at the dinner table, his arse snarled,

 

“Oh great, fatso! Now you’re having even more, and I got to deal with it…”

 

“Please don’t behave that way…”

 

“I’m the one that has to shove your extra helpings out, fatty, while you shovel it in.”

 

Pete’s arse openly insulting him as soon as he pulls the cork out to take a number two, foul and abusive insults are thrown poor Pete’s way, making his life even worse.  

 

Pete has tried to reason with his arse. This involves bending over and looking in to a mirror so he can see it, which hurts his back after a short time. Secondly, he’s increasingly aware that there is no reasoning, because his arse just doesn’t feel the same sense of shame that he feels. Pete’s arse doesn’t see the faces of disgust whenever Pete’s arse throws a smutty and abusive comment someone’s way, or maybe because of it. Either way, Pete has to deal with the moment, while the maliciously rebellious arse farts away in the background, as though innocent.

 

Maybe sign language would have been easier after all.