Walt Disney Gave Me An Enema, and I Didn’t Even Ask For It!

Disclaimer: I am not blaming this incident on Disney World, it just happened to happen there.

When I was fourteen years old, my family and I decided to go to Walt Disney World for a week vacation. We were staying at the lovely Polynesian hotel, which is my favorite hotel in the park. The Polynesian offers many water activities, being right on Lake Disney. My dad thought it would be a swell idea for us all to go out on a boat and try water skiing for the first time. “Great,” we all exclaimed at the thought of a new experience. We arrived at the boat and a nice gentleman brought us out onto the lake. Now, if you have never seen Lake Disney, it is a gigantic body of brown, dark, muddy water. Anyway, more on that in a bit.

The man gave me a quick water ski class, telling me what to do in the water in order to get up on my skis. I put on the two rubber planks, along with a life jacket, and happily jumped into the warm Florida water. Floating there I thought that this was a great idea. The man told me to wave when I was ready. Boy, was I ready. I put my little fourteen year old hand into the air and gave it an enthusiastic wave. The outboard roared to life, the slack in the rope tightened, and little Creaby began to be dragged under the water. Still holding the rope, I struggled to get my head above water. It was very difficult, but finally I was able to breath. I slowly began to rise, but my butt was still in the water. My arms felt like they were being ripped out of their sockets. It was nothing like I expected, and I dropped the rope in defeat. This was NOT the bad part.

So I swam up to the boat, and climbed up the little ladder. They all wanted to know what happened, and I told them I just couldn’t do it. Right about that point, I began to get an intense pain in my stomach. My belly started growling and my intestines felt like they were on fire. I had an incredible urge to explode from my rear end, but we were in the middle of a lake. I told my dad and the man that I had to go back to the room, and NOW! Reluctantly, they drove the boat back to the dock. I was in such pain, it felt like I hadn’t went to the bathroom in two weeks, and all the backed up excrement was pounding on the back door.

With the boat parked, I jumped out, and clenching my fourteen year old cheeks as tight as I could, I waddled back to the room. Thank God it was close by. Upon opening the door, I burst into the bathroom and lunged at the toilet, not a second too soon. My anus opened with a roar, as gallon upon gallon of brown water came pouring out of my butt. The water level in the toilet rose so dramatically that it flushed automatically. It was so close to running over, and I was nowhere near finished. Lake Disney kept pouring forth, in all it’s muddy glory. The noises that were erupting from that room eclipsed those of the Main Street Electrical Parade.

Finally I was finished. I felt empty, like the mile of my intestines were washed clean. I got up, walked into the other room, and collapsed onto the bed. I couldn’t move for about an hour. When I came to, I realized what had happened. As the boat was pulling me through the water, the life jacket pulled me back and up, while the skis lifted my feet to the surface. This left my butt hanging down into the water, as if I was reclining in a Lazy Boy. The water was then forced into my anal cavity. I held on for so long that the water just kept entering me, working it’s way up into my intestines, which are very long! Walt Disney gave me an enema!

So I guess the lesson learned here is, when water skiing, whether at Disney World or any where else in the world, make sure you clench your butt cheeks when the boat first starts pulling you.

2 thoughts on “Walt Disney Gave Me An Enema, and I Didn’t Even Ask For It!”

  1. This was originally posted by me as my alter-ego on another website on 6/27/2000. Now that I have my own forum, I have moved it here, as I will do with all of my stuff from over there.

  2. Disney World gave my wallet an enema one time. I will also never get over my disappointment that Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride didn’t actually let you steer, as I believed when I went on the ride with my Dad at the age of four.

    Damn you Mr. Toad!

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