[ Edit | View ]
Date Posted: Sunday, November 04, 2012, 05:13: am
I didn't have a great grandmother who was enema crazy. That wold fall to my grandmother Edna.
She was my wicked grandmother from my father's side, Edna. The problem with the name Edna is, you're old even when your just born. Edna was just wicked and she didn't like me. She kept trying to convince my father to smother me with a pillow and make another one. I remember one Thanksgiving years ago. Mom, Dad, my two sisters, were invited to Edna's house for the festivities, My whole family except me. She went on to make the point very clear.
"If you bring that boy over here. I will set the dogs on him," she lovingly said to my father. I being the boy. But her threats were baseless. The dogs were her two Pomeranians and not really proper attack dogs.
I'm not sure when Edna developed this dislike for me. I think it was when I was born. My older sister said when Grandma saw me in the maternity ward. She said, I looked more like something mom crapped out than being born.
Her affectionate nickname for me was Turd face. But did my parents defend me against this female satan wannabe? No. They laughed along with my Grandmother at me.
Anyway, we arrived at Grandma's house and even thought there was a sign on her door, no solicitors, no salesman and no Stevens. We walked into the house.
When the wicked witch of the mid west saw me. She smiled an evil smile. As if before the night was over she knew I would be dead. I walked into her living room, noticing that she had covered all of her furniture with plastic. My mom noticed it too.
"Moth problems?" Mom said pointing to the plastic covered couch.
"Grandpa has been having problems holding his water," Grandma firmly said.
"How attractive." I thought cynically. Grandpa is peeing on the furniture.
"Is he staying," Grandma asked pointing to me with her broom.
Dad, looked surprise and nodded his head yes.
"I still have that pillow handy Bernard," Grandma said.
Bernard was my dad's name. All he did was grinned nervously.
She then turned to me and even smiled with her sickly green false teeth. "Steven?"
My god. My grandmother acknowledged my real name.
"Yes Grandma," I choked out. She was up to something.
"I need you to run across the street to Mrs. Plums and get me some cream." Grandma smiled again.
"Are you sure it will be safe. You live on a very busy highway," My Mom asked.
"I'll go," Dad volunteered.
Grandma sneered. "Oh, wait. I forgot I have cream in the icebox."
During dinner. Grandma didn't say a word. She just stared at me with her red eyes and scornful expression. She was plotting something. Something evil. Grandpa was asleep holding his spoon of peas in mid air. Not only was Grandpa incontinent he suffered from Narcolepsy.
"Steven why aren't you eating your food." Mom asked and picked up her fork demonstrating the way to properly eat.
The reason was obvious. I didn't want to die from the rat poison Grandma obviously put into my food. But instead of saying that. I said.
"I have an upset stomach." Falsely groaning and holding my stomach.
Mom was upset. "I told you not to eat three hershey bars."
I knew that would be the only safe food I would get tonight.
Grandma snickered to herself and looked at me. Her stare burning a hole into my soul.
"In my day." Grandpa woke up. "If a child said he had an upset stomach. It was something else." Grandpa fell back to sleep.
"Is it something else Steven?" Mom questioned and felt my forehead.
"I bet Turd face is constipated from eating all those chocolate bars." Grandma lowered her fork to her plate and took off her bib. "I got just the thing to fix his constipation. An enema."
"I...My stomach," I quickly backtracked. "My stomach is fine."
"In my day," Grandpa woke back up again. "When a child said their stomach was upset and then said it was fine. That child was..." Grandpa dozed off before finishing what ever crazy thing he was trying to say.
"Come with me Steven," Grandma demanded and grabbed my hand. She forcibly pulled me from my chair.
I struggled against her grip, trying to plant myself into the floor.
"Mom," I pleaded for her to rescue me from this evil woman.
But mom just ate her dinner as Grandma dragged me off to certain death.
Grandma dragged me into her bathroom which looked like a torture chamber. The bathtub was an old clawfoot tub with about a inch of some kind of human slime lining the inside. The sink contained the same slime and the smell was horrible.
"Sit on the toilet," she commanded.
Apparently I didn't move fast enough and she whipped me with a large doubled over leather belt. Where did that come from?
I sat on the toilet with a sore bottom and watched Grandma assemble the instrument of my doom. She gave me a sadistic grin as she opened up a drawer.
She pulled out an open top enema bag and dumped dirt or dust out of it. The hose was so kinked up and had brown stains on both ends. She connected it to the bottom of the bag and clipped the shut off valve. A rusted metal clamp. To complete the assembly of this carryover from the Spanish Inquisition, she attached a long fat nozzle with bulbous end.
She looked at me again, grinning as she turned on the water. There was black sludge coming out of the faucet before it changed to brown water. Which filled the enema bag. Grandma then dropped an entire bar of soap in the bag and shook it vigorously.
"Hot and soapy for my favorite Grandson," she cackled.
"I'm your only Grandson Grandma." I made the mistake of correcting her. She slapped me across the face.
"Don't you open your pie hole to back talk me. I'll slap you so hard your eyeballs will get knocked out of your head. Turd face." Grandma went back to her preparations.
I rubbed my sore cheek where she slapped me. Like I said. She loved me like the Black Plague.
Finally satisfied that enema would be as painful as possible. She hung it on a rusted coat hanger.
"Strip!" She barked at me raising her hand as to threaten me.
I stripped off all my clothes and stood in the bathroom completely naked with Atilla the Hun. Okay Atilla was a man. But even he would have been scared of this woman.
She grabbed me and threw me over the edge of the bathtub. My face touching the slime. I tried to raise my face away from it, but got a stinging slap on my bare butt.
"If you move again that will be a lot worse," she warned.
I wasn't sure what was worse. Having my face shoved into some kind of Biological experiment growing in her tub or having my butt whipped to the bone.
Grandma put her bony finger into a jar of vaseline and got a glob on her finger. She shoved that bony appendage into my bottom followed by the large fat nozzle. God, if she was going to kill me, lets' get it over with.
I felt the water start to flow into my butt. The pressure was a lot more than when my mom gave me an enema. It felt like she crammed a firehouse up my butt.
The door opened and my mom walked in. "Just seeing how things are going. Steven can be a little difficult when he gets an enema."
"I can handle a little brat. Everything is fine. Go back to your dinner." Grandma said and patted me on the back to show Mom everything was fine.
Mom smiled and left the bathroom.
Grandma didn't want witnesses.
"How does that feel Steven?"
"Awful. My gut feels like it's going to explode." I squirmed.
"Good." Grandma sneered.
After about five minutes, I heard her shut off the water and pull the enema nozzle out.
"Get dressed and go sit in dinning room." Grandma sneered again. "Don't dawdle or do you want to taste the belt again."
I thought that maybe I should taste it. It might be the only safe food I'm going to get from her.
"I really have to go to the bathroom Grandma." I could feel the water rushing toward an escape route. That being my butt hole.
"Nonsense. You need to hold that for ten minutes." She sneered again. She liked to sneer.
"WHAT? Ten minutes. Grandma I'm not going to make it for ten seconds."
I started to sit down on the toilet. But I felt her boney finger thrust up my butt.
"You will go to the bathroom when I tell you and not a second more." She had this sickly grin on her face. The woman was pure evil.
Well even with her finger blocking the escape route. I pushed hard and the water sprayed out into the toilet and on Grandma's finger. She screamed and pulled her finger out. I quickly sat down on the toilet and emptied all of the water in my bottom out.
"Why you little Turd face." Grandma was raging at me. "This will teach you to disobey me."
Grandma was about to whip me with the belt when my Father came into the bathroom, interrupting those plans.
"Everyone okay? I heard a scream." he said and surveyed the scene.
"Grandma wouldn't let me go to the bathroom," I cried out and pooped out some more water.
Now the next thing that happened bonded my Father and I together for as long as I lived under his roof.
"Steven is allowed to expel his enemas right after he gets them Mom. He has a small colon and can't hold his water." Dad came in and sat down on the bath tub next to me.
Grandma was pissed off and tossed the belt into the bath tub. It sank into the brown muck on the bottom of the tub.
She left the bathroom grumbling. "And our little dog too!"
I never understood why she said that.
"I know what you are going through son," Dad said. "When Grandma gave me enemas they were huge, hot, soapy and I had to hold them for ten minutes." Dad tousled my hair. "When you get done come back to the dinner table. I'll also talk to Grandma about calling you Turd face." He smiled at me and left the bathroom.
In later days, things actually improved with my Grandmother. In fact when she passed away, she left me something in her will. The enema bag. I still have it. Though I don't use it reminds of that day when Grandma gave me an enema.
[ Post a Reply to This Message ]