EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA & TAKE THE HILL
I had already changed countless diapers.
I had yet to be peed on by baby Orlando’s “water cannon.”
However, one night, fate caught up with me. At 2:15am, Orlando, screaming and crying while getting his diaper changed effectively and colloquially blew himself out in a fiery burst of explosive diarrhea.
I screamed out as the blast caught me.
I saved the wall but sacrificed myself.
It was like I took the hill I was ordered to and saved my men at the same time.
###
The Sarge looked at me. I was the youngest of the squad but as the bombs burst overhead and the trenches filled with the enemy, I was the best hope we had.
"You need to take the hill, son!"
"But Sarge I can't!"
He grabbed me with a puff of his cigar. "You can do it, son! You have to! Take the hill! Take it for the team!"
I ran up the battlefield and with a grenade and gun, I sacrificed myself into the pillbox, took the hill and saved my men!
###
Lizeth woke up from my screech. She found me frozen as I knelt with my face and torso covered with greenish-brown fuchie-cacas (as Orlando would eventually learn to call it.)
It didn't smell and it wasn't like grown up poo. Babies heave out a type of bean-dip, oatmeal-watery-like substance. It's an awful lot like the milk and eventual early solids they eat.
What goes in, must come out. And it had come out all over my face and shirt.
My wife, snapped from her slumber, looked at me and the baby.
With a moment's assessment, she knew no one was hurt or dying.
Lizeth went back to sleep.
I cleaned myself up. I should have burned the shirt.
Orlando followed his mommy in returning to slumber.
I stayed awake. When I would retell this poo-faced adventure, I would make my saving of the wall more noble rather than me was just being too slow to duck.