GROSSLY OVERLOOKED

I had a huge, steaming pile of crap flung at me, filling my ears, my mouth, my hands, my pockets.  It was foul and just what you might imagine.  And those around me just sort of watched as I grappled with it.  After all, what can you do but sort of indulge in the grossness of it?  After the initial shock wore off, I went to look in the mirror to confirm what I suspected.  Yep.  Crap.  All over. 

Then, about as quickly as it had happened, I went about the process of getting it off of me.  I felt queasy while I spit it out of my mouth, sure there were pieces stuck on my tongue and my teeth.  Then I threw up.  I tore off my clothes, and jumped in the shower.  I’m sure I was clean far before I stopped scrubbing.  No nook or cranny was left unchecked.  I still think I can smell it faintly, even taste it.  Good God, it was horrid.

The extra weird thing was that there were others around me that had been there and even had chunks of it hanging on them, but they didn’t seem to notice or maybe they didn’t care.  “IT’S CRAP!  HEY, YOU’VE GOT CRAP ON YOU!!!”  Nope, they didn’t notice.  They just kept talking.  Changed subjects.  Moved on.

I ask you, wouldn’t you freak out?  Wouldn’t you be grossed out?  Wouldn’t you do everything you could to immediately rid your mouth, ears, body…. soul, if I may…. of crap?!!!? 

“HEY, I THINK YOU’VE GOT A CHUNK OF CRAP ON YOUR SHIRT!!!”

When I look back now, maybe I just thought it was crap.

Maybe it was vomit.

It must have been vomit, composed of ingested crap.   There’s a difference in consistency.   For any of you out there that have a dog and it’s eaten another animals crap (why do they like that stuff?  IT’S CRAP!!!)  and then it’s thrown up in the car while you’re driving down the interstate on an 85 degree day and you can’t pull off the road quick enough to get fresh air… you know what I’m talking about. 

Or maybe it was a story.  A story of someone’s child.  A child possibly being abused.  A story handed down. And no one doing anything about it, except sandwiching the tale in between stories of family vacations, jobs and the horrors of GMO crops.