SAS

I recently developed an allergy or sensitivity to spicy food.  I now, without a more graphic description, develop diaper rash whenever I eat the wrong foods.  I am still learning which foods but I am sure it is spicy stuff.  I have frequently had adverse reactions to cinnamon.

Recently on a very muggy day, I took a walk and irritated my (SAS) swamp ass syndrome.  The discomfort was not noticeable to the outside world and I figured I would just stay quietly in the well-dehumidified office and stick it out for the rest of the day.  I would get home and treat the area accordingly.  Trouble came calling about two thirty PM.  There was a problem with a loaded truck and the cargo had to be moved to another truck for delivery.  I being the supervisor, was called to coordinate unloading and the reload of another truck.  We would have plenty of help so I just would supervise.  I could stay in the shade and not sweat. 

I grew up enjoying sweat.  I loved the way sweat would cool me off in a breeze.  Sweat pouring off of my back was a sign of a job well worked.  Sweat, with all its salt and bacteria is a main ingredient of swamp ass and sure to inflamed the area.  Walking was difficult as I arrive at the truck.  One-Hand Louis was there will Big Joe.  We called him One-Hand because he was always standing around with one hand in his pocket. He would do most things with one hand in his pocket.  Him and Big Joe worked well together because Louis would tell Joe what to do and Joe would do it.  Big Joe was about six foot eight inches tall, knock-kneed with long hair and a wonderful half smile on his face.  He was one of those people who were truly happy to be alive each day. 

This job was going to take hours and I was starting to sweat a bunch.  My dad was a sweating machine and so goes his son.  Temporarily, the moisture seemed to help as it ran down my back.  I knew the Devil was going to get his due on this one.  It took them three hours to unload and load one truck.  While they were working, I drove off to get them sodas for a job well done.  I could barely walk when I got to the Zippy Mart.  My swamp ass had moved down to my thighs.  I cried for mercy as I paid the cute, young, wire through the nose, tongue and ear checkout girl.  She also had braces.  I hope she stayed clear of lightning storms because she was an antenna if I ever saw one.  The obviousness of my pain caused her to watch me hobble out of the store.

I returned to Big Joe and One Hand Louis, handed them the sodas out the window, said, “Nice work, thanks, I gotta go” and spun the tires.  I was going to go back to my office, tell everyone the problem was solved and head straight for home.  I had enough strength for only one try at this.  At the office they told me the new driver (shift change) did not have the delivery papers and I would have to run it out to him.  By the time I got to my car, I was whimpering with every step.  Sitting was OK for a few minutes but the new driver had driven twenty miles before realizing he did not have any idea where he was supposed to go.  I found the driver after about an hour at a truck stop.  I gave him the paperwork and off he went.  I slithered inside the truck stop looking for some relief.  I could barely talk or stand when I purchased eleven packages of lip gloss for “red chapped lips”.  I figured I could smear the petroleum jelly based grease on my ass and sooth this terrible pain.  I could not even wait to get in the car.  I ducked around the corner of the building and jammed my lip gloss laden hands between my legs and rubbed the grease pencils everywhere.  It could have been a gift from heaven but it was not.  There was a distinct smell of cinnamon coming from my crotch.   I yelled “Save me Jesus or I am calling the Devil for help”.  I ran as best I could back into the truck stop and yelled to the smiling child at the counter.   “Where is the nearest drug store, pharmacy or sanitarium.  I do not have much longer to live” She said politely, “there is a Super X drug up the street. Oooh Cinnamon!”  I had touched my face with the cinnamon flavored lip balm and not only were my fingers, ass and thighs burning like the eternal flame at the 68 Olympics but I had red blotches all over my face.  Surprisingly I chuckled on the way to the car.  I noticed my penis was not damaged during this entire ordeal. 

I drug my inflamed body into the Super X and begged the check out girl to help me.  I was sobbing and my ass was on fire.  The teller alerted the pharmacist and he asked me what the problem was specifically.  I said, “I am allergic to cinnamon and I smeared cinnamon laced lip gloss all over my ass, SWEET JESUS MARY JOSEPH save me.”  I grabbed a can of Bactine and unbuttoning my now soaked with sweat pants.  As they dropped to the floor, I jammed the can between my legs and sprayed.  I screamed like a dying goat.  Bactine has alcohol in it and it takes 18 seconds to “reduce pain”.  At about 13 seconds while my eyes were rolling up in my head, the pharmacist came out with some expired prescription strength Preparation HD which contained twenty percent Lidocane.   I snatched that shit out of his hand like a ninja on meth and squirted the entire tube in my hand.  I shoved it down the back of my underwear.   The pain was gone in an instant.  I came to my senses and realized my entire private area was exposed to the Super X and covered with sweet smelling lip gloss and preparation HD.  I pulled up my underwear and sweat soaked pants and asked the teller “how much do I owe you”.  “No charge sweetie!”  I rubbed the remainder of the cream on my face.  A warm bath, some baby powder and three Aspirin would be a welcome end to a pain filled afternoon.