Eb Griper was a vision of melancholy. There he sat in the coffee shop booth ­– three-day beard, striped bib overalls and head in hands. I had never seen my cantankerous old buddy look so gloomy.

“You look like you lost your last friend,” I remarked as I slipped into the opposite seat.

Eb scowled and made an unintelligible grunt.

“What’s wrong, old fella?” I asked. “I’ve never seen you so forlorn.”

“Just came from the doctor’s office,” Eb finally volunteered.

“Oh!” I was reluctant to ask but I did: “Bad news?”

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry, Eb. If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

Eb squirmed and, staring at the table, said, “I have to have a procedure done.”

I hesitated again but finally asked, “What kind of procedure?”

Eb finally looked me in the eye. “My doctor said I need to have one those column oscar-pee things.”

That one had to roll around my mind for a few seconds. Then I figured it out. “Oh, you mean a colonoscopy? You mean you’ve never had a colonoscopy before?”

“Absolutely not. I can’t imagine a human being doing that to another human being.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” I consoled. “A man your age should have done this years ago.”

Eb looked at me in disbelief. “Are you kidding? I was hoping to die before the doctor made me do this!”

“Come on, Eb. They put you to sleep; you don’t feel a thing and when it’s done you don’t remember much. The worst part is the preparation.”

“Preparation?” Eb looked panic stricken. “What preparation?”

“Well, the day before the procedure you can’t eat much besides Jell-O. And you have to take some pills and drink some stuff. You know… to clean you out.”

“Clean what out?” Eb asked naively.

“Think about it, Eb. What do you think needs to be cleaned out?”

Eb finally got it. His face turned white as he muttered, “Oh…”

“It doesn’t hurt. You just need to stay close to the bathroom.”

“I can’t imagine anything worse than this procedure and you say this preparation stuff is worse?”

“You’re worrying way too much, Eb. It isn’t that bad.”

Eb squirmed and then leaned forward. He looked around to be sure no one else could hear and then whispered, “Do you have to take your clothes off for this

procedure?”

“Of course,” I said, “they have to have access to… you know….”

Eb shivered. “And, uh, are there, uh… women in the room?”

“Oh, I get it,” I said. “You’re bashful!”

“Well, the only women who have seen my backside… they’re my mother and Hilda.”

“Trust me,” Eb. “The women who work with colonoscopy patients have seen everything. You’ll be just one more bare butt.”

“You don’t have to talk like that,” Eb demanded. “This is a very personal thing and I’m not excited about having strange women look at my… hind end.”

“Look at it this way, Eb ­– this procedure could save your life. Isn’t it worth a little awkwardness it if can give you a few more good years?”

Eb thought for a few seconds and then mumbled, “I suppose.”

The two of us sat silently for a time. Then Eb asked, “So you’ve had this procedure already, right?”

“Sure; several times. The last one was just a year ago.”

“And it didn’t bother you that some lady saw… you know?”

“Bother me? Well, I suppose a little. I just made a joke of it and promised the nurse she was about to see the fullest moon of her life.”

Eb stared at me for a second and then barked, “You are sick! You know that? You are one sick sicko man. Just downright sick.”

I started humming “Moon River.” That’s when Eb got up and left.