A discussion with my colon regarding a 4 pound steak dinner.

Note: I've named my colon "Bob the Bolus" for reasons that are ridiculous and would take far too long to explain. Ed.



(Driving across the Texas panhandle heading into Amarillo for the night. Bob senses our rough location)



Bob: Excuse me, but are we heading into Amarillo?"
Me: "Um, yes...

Bob: Because why?
Me: Because I'm tired and hungry

Bob: And where praytell are you planning on eating?
Me: I thought maybe a little local steakhouse I know about

Bob: THE BIG TEXAN STEAK HOUE?????
Me: Um, yeah, is that ok?

Bob: HELL NO IT'S NOT OK!!
Me: Please? i promise i'll be carefull,

Bob: Yeah right, that's what you said last time
Me: Well, i got caught up in the moment

Bob: Moment hell, you had every intention of ordering that monster
Me: Ok, ok, I am very sorry, promise

Bob: Too late for that apology shit, I was in colon ICU for a week
Me: Yes, trust me, I remember every single cramp.

Bob: Well let me tell you something pendejo, you order that 4 pound steak this time and those cramps will be the least of your worries. I'll make you suffer like you won't believe. I'm talking a week before your first trip to the throne, I swear.
Me: But some of the other guys are doing it, why can't I?

Bob: BECAUSE I SAID SO, THAT'S WHY.
Me: You always say that.

Bob: I have to because you are too stupid to make your own responsible decisions.
Me: Ok, can I assume that you are gonna order for me?

Bob: You damn straight I am.
(A few minutes later after being seated)

Waitress: Good evening, how are you tonite?
Me: Just fine, thank you.

Waitress: What you are having tonite?
Me: Um, my colon Bob will be ordering for me

Waitress: Well hi there Bob, you having a good evening?
Bob:Now that me and numbnuts got it straight, yes I am.

Waitress: Well, what can I get for you, sweetie
Bob: "We'll take the 6 ounce sirlon please

Waitress: Good choice, baked potatoe or brocolli?
Bob: Brocolli, raw please

Waitress: Soup or salad?
Bob: Salad, no dressing

Waitress: And to drink?
Bob:Water, please.

Waitress: Honey, I'ts not my call, but you just ordered a meal that sounds about as fun as a rectal exam.

Bob:Good thing it's not your call.
Waitress: Ok big boy, comin' right out

(Waitress wanders off)

Me: Thanks a lot, asshole
Bob: Glad you finally understand the human digestive layout

Me: Ok, ok, so anway, what do think about Chicago's draft picks?
Bob: Bunch of crap
Me: Yeah, gotta agree with you on that...
(Bob and I continue on a nice discussion about the football draft)