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 I bought a bottle of extra-strength Kaopectate and a box of maximum-strength Ex-Lax, because who wants to go with the normal strength versions? Normal strength is for pussies. Why would they even sell a normal strength? Clearly they don't really care about our diarrhea and constipation, respectively, if they're still selling a normal-strength version. Screw that crap (so to speak). I considered taking the entire box of Ex-Lax, chased with the entire bottle of Kaopectate, but then I decided to keep it simple, and only take triple the maximum recommended dose. Here's what happened. 9:00 am: I take a Lindsay Lohan-sized dose of laxatives, and an Artie Lange-sized dose of diarrhea medicine. The Ex-Lax is sugar-coated, so it goes down easy, but the Kaopectate tastes, ironically, like ass.  "You take the blue pill, the story ends. You take the red pill, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."  Drinking your diarrhea medicine like this is much classier than ham-fisting it. Shot after shot I consume, until finally I'm loaded up with little blue pills and thick pink liquid. May the best drug win. 11:00 am: The Spanish-American War is being fought inside my stomach. I am lightheaded and dizzy, and I have drymouth. Sadly, I have no idea which drug to blame the side effects on. Noon: My stomach is a hornet's nest of sharp, stabbing pains. I feel as if an unholy war of good vs. evil is being waged in my intestines, with Pfizer and Novartis playing the mighty archangels Gabriel and Lucifer, respectively. Who will win? The suspense is killing me -- and so, I suspect, are the massive doses of medicine. 1:00 pm: Still no clear winner. I decide to take another dose of each. I am now on quadruple-strength Kaopectate, and quadruple-strength Ex-Lax. It's a fucking Walgreen's in my intestine. 1:30 pm: Parent/teacher conference. 2:30 pm: Finally, I can stand it no more. I run to the bathroom, where I give birth to a hideous, multi-headed hydra. She is Medusa, or possibly Mepoosa. I stand up to gaze at the hateful beast, and a little poo dribbles from my backside onto the floor. In twelve years of doing this Web site -- everything from Ole Olestra to The Colon Cleansing Prank -- I am running out of poo stories, but this is something that has never happened before. It sits there, a sad lump of chocolate soft serve on a warm July afternoon, until I clean it up. Tossing it into the bowl of thick lentil soup, I decide that Kaopectate has definitely failed. The chalky pink liquid is no match for the mighty onslaught of Ex-Lax, which I'm deciding should be called "Satan's Stool Softener" after all. 10:00 pm: Aside from a few stomach cramps, I pass (heh) the rest of the day without incident. Having determined the winner, the two drugs seem to have called a truce in my belly, an intestinal ceasefire. So the first round of Drug Deathmatch produced (heh) a clear winner: Ex-Lax, the drug that is number one at number two. Now it was time to move on to the next round. 
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