I Gotta Go, Now!

His eyes met mine as he said, “I gotta go!”

“Go where? Heck, its pourin’ rain out there!”

“Potty and now!” He spoke with a deep sense of urgency as he stood and made his way to the front of the tent. Just as he reached the door, he turned and asked, “Ya got any . . .”

“Toilet paper? Yep!” I reached into my backpack, pulled out a roll and toss it to him. He grabbed it like a professional football receiver and disappeared into the rain. I had interrupted Bubba, because I knew he didn’t bring any T.P. with him, he never did. Over the years, if you hunt of camp with a person long enough, you’re almost like two married people; you know what the other needs before they even ask.

The remainder of the night Bubba kept me awake moaning and with more runs out into the pouring rain. The thunder boomed and the lightning flashed throughout the darkness, but near dawn it grew quiet. Well, almost.

“I gotta see a doctor.” Bubba cried out from the gray semidarkness.

“Bubba, it’s openin’ day of deer season! For goodness sakes!”

“What’s more important, me or some ole’deer.” Many long minutes passed in silence and then he finally asked, “Well, what’s takin’ ya so long to answer me?”

“That’s a hard question. I’m thinkin’ on it.”

Abruptly the man stood and ran from the tent, out to the bushes once more.

Two hours later we were at the hospital. The doctor looked at Bubba and said, “You have a severe gastrointestinal disorder. Have this prescription filled, drink lots of fluids, and get plenty of rest.”

“That doesn’t mean beer, Bubba.” I quickly added, because I knew the man.

“Nope, no alcohol, it will cause additional problems.”

“Is that disorder fatal? I mean do I have enough time left to get my things in order before I die?”

Ya’ll never have that much time Bubba, never, I thought as I stifled a snicker.

You’ll be back to normal in no time and you’re not close to death, but I’m sure it felt like it a time or two last night. I am curious though, what have you been eating?”

Bubba looked over at me, lowered his eyes, and as he slowly shook his head he said, “Must have been some bad meat.”

Author’s note: Sanitation in the field is very important and poor hygiene can cause some very painful, as Bubba found out, illnesses. While this article was written with humor in mind, behind the words is a warning. Keep your gear clean, your food properly stored, and never eat anything that smells “funny”, is discolored, or your dawg won’t go near.

author website: visit | author bio

Pages: 1 2 3