Everyone has a moment in life where things just… Click. You know? One day, everything’s kind of ‘what the fuck, man?’ And then, suddenly, it’s not. Most people click with other people. Maybe a job. A hobby.

For me, it was my body. More specifically; it was my profoundly loose butt hole.

When I was 4 or 5, I made a game of running around my house in the nude. I wish I could say it only happened once or twice, but I am under the impression that this behavior lasted for several months. Just running around, my underage schlong flopping in the wind. I’m sure my parents thought it was hilarious at first, but after the fifth or sixth time I can’t imagine it could be all that funny. Especially when your naked child answers the door.

Move forward a few years and I was 6. I had a new game. I would chase my sister’s friend around the house, desperately trying to kiss her until my nearly limitless vitality ran out. Believe it or not, that didn’t work out so well. It took a while to get my first kiss, and it was about as lackluster and awkward as you can expect.

In my neighbor’s backyard in front of their strawberry patch. She was 6. I was 6. What more can you ask for? Our lips touched, and hers receded about as quickly as they came in. I wanted to do it again. She didn’t. Talk about foreshadowing. But the little Bill Cosby in me somehow knew I wouldn’t get another chance at this for a good 10 years. I doubled down.

“Hey!” Her father roared from the window. If I were ever to have a heart attack, it would have been right then. Just that, and the mood was dead. Like, c’mon, dude. Why gimp a man’s game like that?

Time marched on. I was on the playground, waiting with my class to be escorted back from recess. A new girl was on my mind now, but my intentions weren’t so romantic. She was skipping rope on the playground. Why the fuck was she still playing when we were being corralled like animals? That was some fucking bullshit, let me tell you.

Then I saw a small pebble on the ground. My teacher was standing at the head of the gaggle of children, but their energetic bustle was taking all of her attention. She wasn’t looking. Nobody was. No one would notice if I threw the pebble. I mean, it wouldn’t hit anyways. Why not just do it? Just for the thrill. Just to fucking feel something. Or just for the hell of it, really.

I picked up the pebble and chucked it blindly toward the happily skipping girl. Of course, it missed.

Just kidding. Fucking pegged that bitch. Right in the god damn head. I was on cloud nine until she started crying. Then I was a little less proud. Whoops. Good news is that only I noticed. Nothing came of it. No scolding from teachers, no trip to the principal’s office.

But my first trip to the principal’s office wasn’t that far away.

I had quite the mouth on me as a kid. Not with profanity, I just liked to say outrageous shit. And some little bitch knew nothing about ‘snitches getting stitches’.

So, there I was in the principal’s office with my parents and a very concerned teacher. You see, when a 9-year-old threatens to ‘get a helicopter and blow up the school’, you need to shut that shit down. Call in parents, let the principal in on it, call the fucking president why not (She wasn’t quite that crazy). Cause, you know, he might do it. Probably not. In fact, really, definitely not. But he still, you know, might.

I didn’t. Lucky me, my parents were kind of on my side for that one. Not enough to save me from the ‘You’re nine years old! Play with a fucking Tamagachi, don’t threaten terrorist attacks against your school!’ talk, but enough to keep them from actually punishing me.

But the stupid shit didn’t stop there.

I stole fake money from my 2nd grade teacher. Pissed in the same urinal as another kid (and got caught). Pissed myself and, as if that wasn’t enough, addressed the giant stain on my pants in front of my whole class. “It was the water fountain.” I said, my teacher no doubt wondering why in fuck I was giving a piss-hap soliloquy in the middle of a lesson on multiplication tables. If I had been smarter I would have said I was watering my dick so it would get bigger. Third graders would have eaten shit that up.

At one point I just stopped shitting. Straight up. For two months.

Somewhere in the midst of all of this, my parents started to wonder; “What the fuck, though?

They were left to wonder that for a long time. There simply weren’t any other clues. Your child being socially defunct isn’t much. They needed more. Well ask and ye shall receive. It wasn’t long before they came across another clue.

I used to take huge shits. Giant. Clogging the toilet 3 times a week style shits. At first, this was just another enigma to my parents. “Why does he dump so big? Why did we have to poke his dookie with a stick to get it to flush?” Great questions.

Of course, there are endless theories as to why my bowels committed such heinous crimes. Maybe I was the next stage of human evolution, capable of disposing of waste less often, but in larger quantities. Maybe I ate too much gum as a child, filling my innards with adhesives that caused all through traffic to stick together. Or maybe, just maybe; I had a gargantuan sphincter.

A Mega Rectum, even. That’s a legit medical term. Loose pooper. Spacious. Wide. Quite commonly found planted between the butt cheeks of people with Asperger’s.

And so; this giant butthole combined with my absurdly autistic behavior finally opened my parent’s eyes. I might be autistic. But like, not full on. Just baby autism.

The next step of the journey was a much needed vacation. Except it wasn’t a real vacation, it was a cleverly crafted ruse and I’m still a little miffed about that. Doesn’t take much to trick a 12 year old.

I don’t really remember anything about this ‘vacation’ except for going to a doctor and getting asked a bunch of weird questions. It was kind of like one of those quizzes on Facebook that tells you what type of bread you are, except it tells you that you’re autistic.

1 second, you’re thrilled about the prospect of possibly being rye. Even honey wheat would be a real treat. No. You’ve got poo poo brain. Or so young me thought.

My parents got another call from school the next week. We got back after our fall break and our teacher asked us what we did with our time off. Some girl did it the right way, raising her hand and getting selected. She started talking, but let me tell you I was having none of that shit.

“My parents took me on vacation so we could find out I was retarded!” My poor teacher. She wasn’t paid enough for that shit. I forget what she said. I don’t think she really had anything to say. Who would? What are you going to say? ‘No, you’re perfectly normal even though we now have medical proof that that’s not true’? I suppose she could have corrected my phrasing. Retarded wasn’t the right word.

But fucking whatever, man. Back then, I pretty much did think it meant I had somehow become a social failure. A doctor put a magic spell on me and it fucked my brain up so hard I no longer had a chance to ever be the main character of a romance novel. After some time though, I realized that the diagnosis didn’t make a difference.

Say you spend your whole life with your mouth just packed full of dicks, and over time you get to thinking it’s maybe about ten dicks. That probably sucks. Then say someone tells you it’s actually twenty dicks. Does it change anything? Sure, you have twice as many dicks in your mouth as you had previously believed, but the number of dicks in your mouth didn’t really change. It was always twenty dicks.

Nothing changed. You’re still just a fucked as you were before. Now you know what to call it. You know what it is, and you know it’s yours. And it’s not other people’s fault that they’re strange to you; it’s all these damn dicks in your mouth. It’s not something you can change anymore.

You can’t live without it. But you can at least try to live with it. And even if you fail (all I’ve managed so far) it makes for some pretty good stories anyways.

So, without further ado, here it is. The uncensored, tragically comedic stories borne of my attempts (and failures) to live;

Above the Spectrum.


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