Stucco

Now I usually don't consider myself an authority on wall textures, but my friend Steve recently made me painfully aware of the material that covers my surroundings. I have known Steve since I was very young; however, until about two years ago we only spoke infrequently at family gatherings. College served to renew our friendship. Living in the same city, we often met at the bocce courts or the local meat distributor.

After his father's symposium on public health in Estonia, we were cruisin' the sidewalks all hopped up on the fall air when he stopped, suddenly. He immediately buckled over in pain. While I was concerned for his well-being, I could not determine what exactly prompted his pain. Furthermore, there was no visible area of concentration; his whole body seemed to be pulsating in pain.

There was a man selling sno-kones down the street. I figured if anything in the world could help my friend Steve at that particular moment it would have to be a sno-kone. The glorious union of ice and sugar-syrup was enough to brighten up even a bathroom attendant at a rest stop on the Jersey Turnpike. I assessed the situation and decided on sno-kone.

When I returned with the mound of colored ice he was briefly relieved and thanked me repeatedly for the gesture. Then he took the kone and inserted it directly into his rectum. The insertion was done with such force that the syrup at the bottom leaked onto the sidewalk. The paper was severely punctured, and his hands were stained with syrup and ass juice. However, his face immediately fell back to its normal form. His legs stopped twitching, and the color returned to all his appendages. I was pleased he was better and didn't really need an explanation for the outburst, but halfway down the sidewalk he turned to me and said, "Sorry, but I always get hemorrhoids when I pass stucco walls. It's an affliction I inherited from my great uncle."