The Stoma Chronicles, A La King

Rested from the holidays and back for more stoma madness.. it's Flabby. 

Oh dear Flabby, 

My stoma, Perkle, has been such a pain in my sore bum lately.  Everytime we drive somewhere.. he can't keep his trap shut.  Squawking about how fast I'm going, or how I hit the brakes.  "Watch out for this... look out for that."
If I could, I'd shove him in the trunk. 
I reminded the chatty little shit "You can't see nothing from under my shirt, so shut up."  Well, he burped, sputtered, and hissed at me!  Oh Flabby, what ever shall I do? 

Lovingly,
Bonnie Headstrom 

Dear Bonehead, 

Nothing in life worse than back seat drivers.  Especially one in the front seat like prissy Perkle.  
Once had a mouthy mother in law.  Used to bitch me out while I chauffeured her wrinkled butt to play bingo at the local VFW hall.  After a week of elder abuse, I gave Mr Flabby the car keys.  Told em: "Your Mom, your problem."  Then walked to the Brass Knuckle bar for some liquid sunshine.  After a couple of days.. mommy dearest was shipped off to Happy Hills old bag home.  Adios.... mother. 

So don't take any crap from a glorified poop valve.   Threaten Perkle with a barrier ring... molded high and tight.   

'Scuse me while I knock back another gin, 

Flabbie.. oops, Flabby.

And now... more nocturnal adventures of Noodles Malone, private detective.

Got up after a snooze, looked in the mirror. More wrinkles, less hair. Damn. Decided it's time to visit my pals at the Poop Pop Bar and Grill. Stumbled in about 10. Owner Petey Poop was in the kitchen slingin' the hash. Lookin' around, I see my pal Billy Bones in a corner booth. I slide in. "What's up, Bones?" "Oh, nuthin' much, Noodles. Same shit, different color." He was looking at the racing form. "How's the ponies treating you?" "Oh, Noodles, it's bad as always. I pick 'em to win, they come in second. I never learn."
Petey sauntered over. "What cha having, Noodle?" I decided on flapjacks with a side of bacon, greasy style... just like I like 'em. After an hour of tepid talk and stale air, I decided to bounce. "See ya, Bones... I'm off to Porky's for some dancin' and romancin'." "Pick yerself a winner, Noodles, God knows I never do." 

I aimed the caddy toward Old Town. Slapped on some cheap cologne, buttoned down my collar, popped in a Tic Tac. Time to test out the old Noodle charm. Porky's was packed. It was hard to see in the smoke-fouled air. Ordered a shot of Wild Turkey, stirred, not shaken. Waitress just stared at me like I was an alien from Palookaville. Eying the dance floor, I spotted a "keeper." Big-boned blonde gal, just like I like 'em. Sitting at a table with a couple of old broads. I gave her my best James Dean stare. Song ended, I sauntered over. "Hey honey, Noodles the name. Care to cut the rug with a pro?" She took a long drag on her Tiparillo... blew smoke in my face. "What's it to you, chump?" I smiled... she was perfect. Sassy and sexy. Jute was playing Elvis... Blue Suede Shoes... I held out my hand. She stood up, giggled, and we started dancin'. Next song was slow and sweet. I pulled her close. We twirled around for a bit. Then she whispered in a husky voice: "Baby, let's get physical. Ladies' room, don't be late." HELLO... Can you say score!
Slowly she sashayed back to her table. Chatted with the grannies for a bit. Then gave me the high sign. One of the senior citizens and her teetered off to the can. I checked my pocket... yep, remembered to bring "protection." Can't be too careful in this dive. I waited a minute, then casually opened the pink door with a hen stenciled on it. Inside was dimly lit, single bare bulb flickering like a candle. A stall door had a heart drawn on it... in lipstick. I untucked my shirt, slowly opened the door. The light went out. Perfect! I squeezed in. Put my arms around her, gave her a big smooch. Suddenly the light came on. I opened my eye... OMG... it was the grandma! I heard laughter in the next stall. Then the old broad unzipped my fly!
I lit outta there faster than a bear chasin' a beaver. OMG!!!!

Brash and bold. Never does what she's told... it's Flabby time.

Dear Madam Flab,

I'm so clumsy. I stumble on stairs, bump into furniture, drop everything, step on the cat... I'm a walking klutz. Worst of all is changing my colostomy wafer. Oh how I dread it. Poop winds up on my fingers, all over the sink. I fumble the barrier ring... which ends up stuck to the bathroom floor. Oooh, I get so flustered. Last week I didn't snap the bag on all the way around. Crap seeped out, all over my jeans... at work!
Oh Flabby, whatever shall I do?

Love ya,
Metanda Headren

Dear Meathead,

Being discombobulated as an Ostomymate does toss a wicked curveball your way. My long-dead granny, Apple Fanny, used to say: "Poop and crap go together like P's and Q's." Don't ask me what it means. She also used to mistake the closet for the bathroom. RiP. But I digress...
What you need is advice and education. Seek out the MaO website. Ask questions, get answers, get abused by Warrior. In a couple of weeks, you'll earn your Stoma Diploma. You'll still be a ditz, but without the poopy hands.

Don't call me grabby, cuz I be the one and only Flabby! Later potator.

Bar hopping. With Noodles Malone.

It was half past 4. I was boozing in the Clamshell bar, shootin' the breeze with my pal "Louie the Lip." He was matching me, martini to martini. "Lou," I slurred. "How the hell are we gonna get home?" The Lip slurred right back with a giggle: "Iffin we can find da dump." I chuckled a bit. Finishing my libation, I yelled at the bartender, "Hey you, a couple more for me and the Lip, and maybe put some alcohol
in it this time." He shot us a surly glare. "Chop chop," the Lip barked. Next thing I know, we're sittin' in the parking lot with skid marks on our pants.
"Well my friend Lou, another day, another bar. Time to stumble off in search of home sweet dump."
He started laughing... I chuckled.

Swaying down the street, I nearly collided with a light pole. I had a brainstorm, a drunken brainfart. "Hey Lip, let's link arms. That way when you lean left, and I lean right... we'll go straight." We linked arms and forged ahead. Next thing I know, I slipped off the curb and BAM! Right into the gutter. Noodles and booze. Just like peas and carrots.