Grant me an artistic license as I step far off my normal path and recount a recent event in imaginative terms rather than its gritty reality. I daresay you will eventually get the point if you remain focused as it meanders through familiar paths, recalling perhaps your adventures at Bum Mountain.

Midway between the Foothills and the shoulder tops of the Spine Plain lies a small range of mountains containing two smooth, rounded mounds called Bum Mountain. Mostly, they keep quiet, providing a soft landing for the weary. Still, occasionally, when least expected, they growl and grumble to your chagrin.

On the rare occasions one never forgets, quite out of nowhere, a mysterious rumbling arises and threatens Bum Mountain’s otherwise peaceful serenity. It starts out small and incidental, yet bears a familiar, distant twinge that feels off. Ignore it at your peril, chalking it up as nothing. Or, consider yourself warned.

Maybe you’ve felt it before. It may have been a while.  It just can’t be, you naively suggest. Harmless at first, restless and taunting, something is brewing, and it isn’t beer. That rumble you dread could be serious or just the remnants of leftover sushi.

The muffled protests continue as your resolve to ignore it rapidly turns into terror. Beads of sweat begin to form on your brow. “Not here,” you shout at Bum Mountain.” Not now!”

The growling reverberates deep inside the mountain. You are keenly aware of your imminent danger if you do not act swiftly. A fiery river flows deep inside the mountain, searching for an escape route.

Your quest for the porcelain throne immediately consumes you.

In a bizarre twist, the word problems you thought foolish in math class come strangely to mind.

How fast does Jane have to run to cover fifty yards and save what’s left of her pride before the river of fecal debris spews a six-foot perimeter of toxic waste in every direction?

Math 101

Gripping the gluts at Bum Mountain with all the superhuman strength one can muster as burning lava crashes against its only barrier to freedom. Move too fast, and the door might leak. Move too slow, and nothing on earth can withstand the power and intensity pressing on this tiny exit.

Nonchalantly as possible, despite profuse sweat dripping from your chin, you close the bathroom door louder than intended, seeking immediate shelter from this storm of unknown velocity.

It could be just distant thunder. But you aren’t willing to take that chance as you expertly guide Bum Mountain over the reservoir.

The gates of hell can no longer be held back, endlessly splattering anything within range. You question whether the porcelain can withstand such a violent attack, as it acts like a megaphone, reverberating so loudly, catching the attention of innocent passersby. “You okay in there?”‘

The odor emanating from Bum Mountain is melting the hairs in your nose. Noxious gas burns your eyes. You want to flee in horror, but have nowhere to go as the unpredictable magma ceaselessly flows.

You dare not leave. You’re trapped like a rat in a corner with nowhere to hide for fear of the next volatile explosion.

Your head is spinning. It could be poisonous gases or the knowledge that you must get home and out of this public place. Preferably, not on a stretcher. However, that might be an option requiring the Haz-mat team.

Like labor pains, you measure the time between explosions to determine the best course of action. Another word problem presents itself.

Jane’s car is parked two blocks away, and the next closest toilet is located on the second floor of the adjacent building. Jane has four minutes and twelve seconds before impending doom….

Math 102

Suffice it to say, I survived, although strangely now aware of the sheer amount of liquid the human body can expel for days. Aesthetically, it’s taken a toll.  I’ve aged five years through this rapid dehydration and now look alarmingly like my ninety-five-year-old great aunt. Mass quantities of water are required to return me to my not-so-young sixties.

There is a positive note I want to end all this silliness on, and that is this experience taught me the importance of being in the present moment. In fact, it kept me laser-focused there. How good is our God to use such an occasion to remind me of how blessed I am to have the convenience of indoor plumbing, soft toilet paper, a washer and dryer close by, and healthy legs that can swiftly move me where I need to go, just in time. Mostly.

The unrelenting curse of Bum Mountain will leave you wary and untrusting of simple flatulence. You never know what lurks under Bum Mountain disguised as an innocent toot.

The stomach flu, which is spreading across the nation to unsuspecting humans, will soon visit your neighborhood. Be prepared. Pass on this warning to those you love, lest they find themselves unprepared for the Curse of Bum Mountain.