The O-Ring of Fire (Fin?)...

… And the itch raged on. This thing was like some sort of rectal Godzilla… Godzillass. Nothing could stop it – not mineral baths, not mini butt-bullets, not even Mothra carrying a giant tube of Preparation H. I was all ready to have my entire ass surgically removed when I stopped for a moment to reflect. What had changed in my life since the itch started? Hmm… well, we had gotten the dog. Could I have contracted some bizarre dog-bung malady? The doctor said that there was no evidence of pinworms and I had long ago stopped eating dog turds on my daily walks, so that was out.

What else? Well, I WAS walking the dog a couple of miles every day. And I DID get kinda sweaty in the assy area during said walks. And the boxers I’d been wearing WERE a cotton-poly blend. And after said walks, I DID go back down to the basement and sit on my vinyl chair for up to 10 uninterrupted hours at a time, creating the perfect environment for a rectal terrarium to thrive.

Hm.

I turned to the very last resource at my disposal. Meijer, or in Michiganderin: The Meijers. If the solution to my derriere dilemma couldn’t be solved at the Meijer, I would be itchin’ my ass to the grave. I high-tailed it on over there, the front doors wooshed open and I marched straight for the Men’s Delicates department. I dug through all the tightie-whities and silky 80s undies until I got a hold of a 3-pack of Fruit of the Loom 100% cotton boxers. They glowed in my shaking hands like… well, like I’d imagine the boxers of someone who lived in Chernobyl might. I almost dropped trou right then and there to pull them on but I restrained myself and waited until I got back home. Besides, I figured I should wash them first – didn’t want to get anyone else’s fruit juice all up in my loom.

But while I was still at Meijer, I thought I’d take a stroll down the toilet paper aisle, as I am wont to do, and I came across a different brand of “Moist Wipes.” Charmin’s Freshmates. Wha-huh?! A different brand of flushable moist wipes?! I wasn’t informed of this!!! It was a sign. Why not try out the new cottony undies AND rotate in a new brand of moist wipe?! OF COURSE! It all seemed so clear now!!!

So my asshole and I zipped home to try out the new goodies. While my new skivvies were a-tumblin’ in the laundry, I decided to see how my new Freshmate and I got along. Besides, it was just about time for my mid-day Operation Dumbo Drop. I pulled out the first ‘mate, applied it to its intended target and… the heavens opened up, the angels sang and I’m pretty sure a flock of white doves sprang from my fanny.

As moist and wipeable as the Cottonelle Fresh Flushable Moist Wipes had been, these new Charmin Freshmates were a-moister and a-wipeable-er! It was like mashing a melange of ambrosia, gossamer and bunny tears into my crackhole. I think I actually felt my anus smile, if that’s possible. And it was at this very moment that I knew my itching problems had been solved.

And that’s pretty much it. No disease. No bugs. No unborn twin. Just sub-par boxers and moist wipe-sensitivity. Not very romantic an ending, I know, but, hey, that’s reality. Reality is… irritating. And we look for big, clear-cut solutions to our problems but sometimes the solutions are as simple as changing your underwear.

I think Lennon and McCartney said it best on their song "The End" from Crabby Road: “And in the end, the shit you take is equal to the shit you make.”

Although I probably should've quoted something from "The Wipe Album."