What happens when you drink 10 oz of Magnesium Citrate?

I’m so glad you asked…

12:05 pm: It’s time. You shotgun a 10 oz bottle like it’s a lukewarm Power-aide because you don’t want to be a pansy in front of your brother’s friends.

It’s suppose to be lemon flavored, however, it’s quite clear that whoever led the Wal-Mart R&D team that day has never actually tasted anything remotely like lemons in their life.

You are already regretting this decision.

12:06 pm: You splurge, and down a cupcake like you’ve been saving it for the apocalypse because let’s face it…that special time is here.

You know it’s going to turn to liquid before it even clears your throat but you really don’t care.

All is right in the world at this moment. . .

However, hold on to that thought because you’re about to enter a very dark period in your life.

12:37 pm: First sign of ‘movement.’ The pressure is growing.

You know that you already have 5 lbs of impacted stool in your colon, and you just drank the “safe for humans” version of Drano.

You feel a movement coming on finally. You think it’s time. . . You’re wrong.

You get a little snaked band of poop . . . just a teaser, an appetizer if you will.

And yet, beware . . . this is the last semi-solid thing you will see leave your body for the next 24 hours.

12:57 pm: That little science experiment you started cooking 52 minutes ago is about to reach it’s boiling point.

Your stomach is angry now. It hates you…you can feel it.

You have exactly three tenths of a second to make it to the nearest toilet but you can’t run . . . do not run, NEVER run!

You pray to the Man Above that there is enough elasticity in your rectum to keep the gates closed for five more steps as you start to preemptively undo your pants to save valuable time.

Almost there.

3…2…1…

12:58 pm: Sweet Mary,…is this real life?!!!!

Your cheeks barely hit the seat and all hell breaks loose.

The mixture coming out of your colon exits with such force that it actually sprays the back of the toilet bowl at a 45 degree angle, deflecting in every direction but down.

Is that blood? WHEW! NO, False alarm. Oh, wait, that’s the remnants of a cherry pie you ate at Thanksgiving . . . when you were 5 years old.

The smell is horrid . . .the sound is deafening . . . the look on your spouse’s face is frightening.

You try to clench what’s left of your rectal orifice to soften the blow but it’s just not working.

The whole house just heard you expel gas as if someone ignited a propane tank . . . followed by the sound of liquefied . . . holy cow, what was that?!

1:06 pm- 8:30 pm: Everything’s a blur. You have pooped out everything you have ever eaten since the day of your birth. You feel like you even passed things your ancestors ate in the early 1800’s. Your rectum feels like a flaming hot Cheeto shedding the tears of a thousand Jalapeno seeds.

You curl up in the bathtub while ugly crying because you have to remain within arm’s reach of the toilet at all times.

You have now experience the poop sweats. And then, you meet Jesus.

8:37 pm: Your family will never be able to unsee the things they’ve seen in the last 8 hours.

You’re broken.

Your rectum will never be the same again.

Your spirit’s broken.

Life as you know it will never be the same. However, . . . tomorrow’s a new day.

You’re going to wake up, throw on the only remaining pair of underwear you have that doesn’t have permanent racing stripe, and you’re going to run up to the nearby Target with the last shred of dignity you have left . . .

And, you buy yourself a new toilet brush. You’ve earned it.