Chapter 1: Edmund

Eddie hated his name. Yes, it was his so-called legal name, but Edmund never believed such an ancient and pretentious name should belong to him. He looked it up: in 2022 under 200 babies received the name Edmund according to the Social Security Administration.

He used it when he had to. It was on his driver’s license, his voter registration, and a few other places. Everywhere he could be, he was Eddie. Someday, maybe, he might have to confess to someone who mattered. But mostly, he was isolated.

Eddie had a problem that hindered him, socially, much more than his name did. He was, in medical terms, afflicted with fecal incontinence. In plain English, sometimes solid waste refused to stay inside his bowel and tried to sneak out, or try to partially emerge and take a look around. In other words, the notorious turtlehead.

He had been to doctors of various stripes, including gastroenterologists and dietitians. Eventually, various reviews coalesced into a shared medical opinion. Eddie simply had poor control of his sphincter, the ring-shaped muscle that kept the exit door closed for nearly all persons.

Worse problems happened when he was gassy, causing any crowding “down there” to cause immediate expulsions. As a matter of routine, Eddie purchased and wore ‘Depends Underwear’ every day. These were stretchy underwear with a cotton pad for catching any escaped waste in the back, or pee in the front. Thinner than a diaper, they were usually not visible under his pants. Leaking pee didn’t seem to be an issue for Eddie, it was just, well, all his problems were behind him. Literally.

And he worked outside, every day, as an electrical lineworker for the local utility. Up on the poles he could fart all day or worse, and not be annoying anybody with his smell. In fact, the wooden poles actually reeked from the coal-tar based creosote which protected them from weathering and rot.

Like all of us, Eddie could not escape the twin terrors: death and taxes. Other than his ass, he was healthy and not yet 30. But he had seven years of job experience and a good income, plus some inherited investments and a home that made an annual trip to the accountant necessary.

This time, when he showed up at the firm, the receptionist told him that Ms. Andrea Loring would be assigned to work with him, and she sent him upstairs to the back of their two-story building.

When he reached the right office, he knocked and the door swung open immediately, as if she had been standing right there waiting for his knock.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you. Reception told me you were on your way. Please come in and have a seat. Oh, and call me Andie, please.”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Of course.”

Andie stunned him in a different way. She was gorgeous. Fluffy black hair in waves below her shoulders. A tight gray blouse over a knee-length navy skirt. Subtle makeup, white but with a dark complexion. Perhaps she was part Latina? And definite curves. He stuttered a bit while his eyes stayed locked on her.

For her part, Eddie had her total attention. He was perhaps a couple inches under six feet tall; his tanned skin and muscular body suggested he worked outside. A farmer, perhaps?