My First...Well, It Sounds like Touche

Long term memory is a precious thing. I understand that many of us who are teetering on the edge of oblivion actually retain our long term memory in all its glory. I don't know how accurate that is, but it explains doddering old fools reverting to childhood and acting like babies. There but for the grace of God.......

Anywhooo, I was strolling through the drug store aisles with the sister when I spotted a long term memory jogger, a box that said something like "My First Douche Kit" I was carried back in time to a better place. I envisioned myself running bare foot in a frilly white dress surrounded by blue skies and a field of flowers. I was young again, and my childlike curiosity beckoned. What in the world was a douche? A long term memory had just kicked in, and I was lost in my own reverie.

Advertising feminine products years ago was pretty vague. The product left a lot to the imagination, and my imagination was somewhat misdirected. I assumed that the harmless looking package was like a body wash, but special in some way. I secretely purchased a douche kit, smuggled it into the house and waited for an opportune time to experiment. The time arrived shortly.

When I opened the package, I found a cute little rubber-like pink sac and a foil packet. I skimmed the directions and learned that inside the packet was the lightly scented granular additive. "Huh, this must be the soap", I thought. I sliced open the delicately scented packet and dumped it in the little bag.

I set aside a weird looking tube with holes in it that looked like a turkey baster, or maybe a kazoo, and read on. The instructions were telling me to attach the bag filled with the little granules to the faucet. I reread this paragraph several times to be sure I understood exactly what it said. I felt a little like a plumber fixing a drippy faucet, but I finally got the rubber gasket part of the bag on the faucet, and read on.

I was so absorbed with figuring out whether to throw the kazoo thing away or maybe try to play it that I forgot about the bag in the sink. By the time I glanced up to check it, it was about the size of a basketball. It completely filled the sink and was spreading itself over the faucet. I think it actually groaned with relief when I shut the faucet off.

So, there I was with a massive twenty pound pink blob sitting in the sink. Ok, time for more directions. This was when it really got weird. I was supposed to walk over to the toilet and stick that kazoo in the hole of the bag. What the??? I had some reservations about this, but had learned not to question directions a while ago during a barbeque assembly experience. I gathered up that blob, the instructions and the kazoo, and over to the toilet I waddled.

I took a seat and prepared to do just as instructed. But before I could shove the kazoo into the blob ...BA-BOOM! The sudden burst of sweetly scented water almost blew me off the john. Water shot up to the ceiling, over the window curtains and down over me. Apparently one of the seams exploded from the pressure. There I sat, soaked to the bone, smelling like flowers, and the sad remains of my douche bag stuck on the bathroom light.

My daydream came to an abrupt end when the sister ran into me with her shopping cart, railing at me about finding the air freshener. I wanted to tell her I knew a way the bathroom would smell like fresh flowers for months, and at a fraction of the cost. Just give it a douche.

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