The Poop Prick

"Don't worry, be crappy."

Guy Kawasaki

Perhaps, I'm just young. Or perhaps, just maybe, Japan gets too personal when it comes to health exams. Today my supervisor handed me my health exam packet. While looking through his, he pulled out a plastic bag filled with what appeared to be syringes. 

Shocked, I asked "You have to do your own blood test?"

"Not blood," he said, "droppings." I wanted to believe that by "droppings" he meant something else. 

Relief came, at least for half a moment, as he shook his head while I said "Fecal matter?" But when he folded out the pamphlet, my worse fears hit the fan. 

But the big question remained unanswered. "Was this vile bag in my envelope?" Like a log belonging to a constipated man, my hand moved cautiously. But to my smiles, no bag was found! 

"Maybe you are too young," said my supervisor. Whatever the reason, I'm just thankful I don't have to stab my turd. I don't even want to know where this is supposed to go down. In the toilet while it's floating about? Or do you build a paper towel foundation, 15 layers strong? But how do you even get the turd there? This sort of activity would have been enjoyable when I was a seven year old boy.

Well, at least I know I can't stay in Japan for too long. But now I'm wondering if this bizarre test will be waiting for me elsewhere.

I wasn't joking!