We were lucky to welcome a new doctor to our practice from Eastern Slobodan, and so I decided it was time to make him feel at home here in his new country, and of course, that meant taking him to a bar for some cold brews or some manly cocktails so he could get a taste of Americana.

We pulled up seats at the bar, a long winding one, with about 20 seats available, so we took two in the middle in front of the large screen TV, happy it was fairly quiet and we could talk and understand each other.

“I’d like to buy you a drink Rikorna.  What will you have?”

“Scotch, which is splattered on the rocks, as you say, please.”

I smiled, did not correct him because his words were too funny and needed to be preserved forever.  I then said to the bartender, “Two Glenlivet 12 single malt scotches, doubles, on the rocks please.”

We both took a drink, then, I asked Rikorna if he needed any help adjusting to America and if there were any questions he had about the language.

“Well Carson, I studied English for four years in my country, and I think I am pretty good with it, although it is a difficult language because many words have multiple strange meanings and uses it seems. For example, one word I noticed is often preceded by thousands of adjectives like nasty, good, hot, deep, talking, holy, weird, great, excellent, smelly, take and sometimes preceded by multiple animal names.”

“What word would that be?”

“Poop. We call it Ungah in my country.”

“Oh, you mean shit, I think.”

“Yeah, in my country, excrement is a bad word and it always means waste that comes out of you in the bathroom, which of course, is very necessary.  But here, it seems, the word makes me confused.”

“Are you shittin’ me Rikorna?”

“No Carson, I do not shit on you.  I would never—”

“It means ‘are you deceiving me, or lying to me’”.

“Oh. I see. But why do Americans frequently say they ‘take a shit?’  Wouldn’t it be better to leave it?

“Um, I have no answer to that.”

“Hey Rikorna, pass me that salsa dip over there. I’m getting hungry.”  So, he did, and then I dipped some chips in it and puckered my lips and said, “Now that’s some hot shit!”

“Oh, sorry Carson, they should have let it cool when it came out of the oven.”

“No, it means it was very spicy.”

“Oh, so shit can be food too, it seems.”

“Well, maybe so, come to think of it.  It does sound stupid. But sometimes, people will describe a taste as being good shit, you know, like dope smokers who take a toke and feel good, and they will say, ‘now that’s some good shit.’”

“English language is weird, to call excrement good to taste!”

“I suppose you have a good point there, Rikorna.  But I don’t give a shit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Carson, but if you are constipated, I can order you some laxatives at the pharmacy.”

“Ha!  No, I don’t give a shit is a phrase that does not mean you are constipated, but instead means you do not care about the subject, or what the person says or does.”

“Ah, I see, but that is still strange.  But what does it mean when Americans say, I shit you not?  Does it mean they are trying to say they are better than you because they can poop ok and you can’t, because you are constipated?”

“Holy shit!  Ha.  No, it means their words are true and they are not lying to you.”

“Oh, that makes no sense, but ok. But why is shit considered spiritual then?

“What?”

“You said it was holy.”

“No. It means, um, well holy shit means it is a big surprise, and it could be a good surprise or a bad surprise, but either way, a significant surprise.”

Rikorna finished his scotch quickly then bought another round for us both, then said, “Carson, I’ve learned a lot today already about the English version of excrement!  Ha!”

“No shit?”

“Thanks for asking Carson, but I went to the bathroom early this morning.  I’m ok.”

I laughed and spit out a little of my precious scotch, and then, I found that the bartender was chuckling too, finally admitting he was listening to our inane conversation.  “No, Rikorna, no shit has nothing to do with your bowel habits, but is an expression that essentially means, are you sure, or, that’s incredible!”

“Ah, I see. And I have heard the terms horse shit and deep shit and bullshit, and I think I figured out those are bad things like you step in smelly stuff and you hear fake things or lies from people, like hospital administrators who say their only bottom line is the best care for patients and the happiness of doctors and staff.  Or maybe U.S. politicians who say their only interest is the people they represent.”

“Exactly”

Suddenly, the bar quickly filled up as a bus pulled up and out came the Denver Broncos Cheerleaders and their entourage, and they quickly took seats surrounding the two of us. They smiled a lot. We were um, thankfully, in the middle of the bar so we could be easily surrounded with no easy escape.  We both looked around, tried to hold our composure as much as the scotch would allow us, smiled at our luck, then suddenly Rikorna blurted out —

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.  For sure.”

“Either someone put some nasty shit in my drink, or this is real. Because Carson, if this is real, I’m in deep shit.”

“Why would you say that Rikorna?”

“My wife just walked in.”

That’s when I knew he got it, and now understood some of the deeper meanings of the English language and its’ special words.

© 2023 SRCarson Publications