The Sips, Suds, And Sodomy Challenges Of Life

Am I even old enough to need this, wondered Michael?

It was all in an average day in the life. As Michael stood there, he wondered what else could happen. His week consisted of being kicked around by life, and life took on an almost angry-god like appearance. As cinemafile, Michael compared life to the giant peckered demon chasing Seth Rogan and friends around in the movie this is the end.

Bent over his doctors table, he wondered if Dr. Touchy got his medical degree from the devil's favorite educational establishment, the Vatican.

Hey Doc, thought Michael, "You're not Catholic are you?"

What did Michael know about Catholicism, or church for that matter? He hadn't attended services in years, and was sure that a priest in confessional had better things to listen to than his boring life.

This was the yearly physical his father warned him to get as he grew up. His dad was never much for doctors, and there was good reason for that. Little did Michael know, while his father was working in southeast Asia as a railroader, his mother was back home being examined by Dr. Sexy M.D.

Michael wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. The idea of working on a railroad sounded fun and exciting. Traveling in a locamotive with a thousand or more tons behind him as they pushed through an area. His dad always smiled when when he talked about working on the Thai railroad.

"But mm," he'd say when she got upset. "He was just laying Thais."

Poor Michael, his mother thought. Thank god he got his looks.

As I said, Michaels week had been hell. As he felt the doctor lingeringly fingering around, he pictured his boss, finger in the air, as he questioned whether Michael was stupid or not. It wasn't that he was stupid; poor Michael was merely tired.

Michaels old college roommate was in town. The two of them had been inseparable years ago. So when the phone rang and it was Hank, Michael was excited to hear that old Hanky was coming for a visit. Ah, but there was his wife to contend with.

Michaels wife was the definition of ball buster. She was beautiful, smart, articulate, well read, and challenged Michaels norms. Sometimes, she'd challenge them too much. But this time, Michael was getting a pass to go hang out with his old friend.

"Tell Hanky I said hi," she laughed.

After getting yelled at by his boss, and finding out his old college buddy he thought of like a brother had changed, Michael was already having a hell of a week. His old colleghe pal, that was a capper on things, until his doctor appointment.

What in the hell, thought Michael, looking at the table. He could see it in the eyes, that was Hank, but Hank wasn't Hank anymore. He questioned, when did Hank decide to become a woman? Honestly, Michael considered leaving before it was too late, but then the unfortunate happened.

"Yo! Michael, over here!"

She, or he, had noticed him standing there. It was awkward to Michael. He'd never spent any time with an transsexual. He didn't know what to say, and certainly struggled with what to call his old babe slaying buddy.

"Hank," Michael questioned, acting as non-chalant as he could.

Michael was weirded out moreso by the womanly figure standing up and giving him a lingering hug. His wife's tits weren't this firm, or this large. He wondered, why did he have to be a boob man.

After dinner and twenty-or-more beers, Michael woke up with a lipstick stain on his face. He must've stumbled on to the counch and passed out. Unfortunately, his wife got up much earlier than him.

So the capper of the week, with work, and his best friend behind him, was a doctor behind him checking his prostate. How much more was poor Michael expected to take, he wondered. As the doc seemed to linger longer than Michael imagined was normal, he realized something awful.

The was holding his left arm and he felt the docs other hand on his back.

"Noooooooooo!" screamed Michael, waking up next to his wife.

Michael's wife was wearing her sunday night pajamas. He realized what that meant.

"Fuck, tomorrow's Monday..."