A shart too far

I’ve never met a toilet that I haven’t been able to clog. My proudest moment was at a burrito joint in Arkansas. I thought maybe I should write a story about this, but then I thought “fuck that, how would CORMAC MCCARTHY write a story about this.”

So I went to the only place that could make this happen: ChatGPT.

The story that it produced was a doozy. The main character, a man simple described as “a specter of anonymity”, ventures to Chipotle where he undergoes a hero’s journey. The themes highlight the quiet struggles we all face, many times unbeknownst to others. Through a mundane struggle such as clogging a toilet a toilet at Chipotle, McCarthy reveals to us the everyday heroism that the average person goes through each and every day.

It’s the late American author’s finest hour, had he have actually written it.

RIP Cormac McCarthy

A Shart Too Far

By Cormac McCarthy and ChatGPT

Loosely based on a true events

A man, solitary and burdened by the immutable weight of his choices, stood at the entrance of Chipotle. The flickering neon sign above cast a sickly glow upon the asphalt, where discarded wrappers and forsaken dreams lay strewn like casualties of a forgotten war. He entered the establishment, its sterile atmosphere a stark contrast to the desolation that clung to his weary soul.

The patrons, mere shadows behind the murk of indifference, shuffled through the assembly line, constructing burritos with mechanical precision. The man, guided by a primal hunger, joined the line, his gaze fixed on the flickering menu like a lost wanderer seeking solace in a forsaken land.

A dispassionate attendant, clad in the faded insignia of a corporate serf, met his gaze with an empty stare. The man, a specter of anonymity, muttered his order – a concoction of rice, beans, and meats, a meager attempt to nourish a body ravaged by the unforgiving currents of existence.

Burdened tray in hand, the man navigated the labyrinthine tables, where conversations lingered like distant echoes. He chose a seat in the farthest corner, seeking refuge in the margins of society, as if the shadows could shield him from the relentless scrutiny of a world indifferent to his plight.

Consumption became a mechanical ritual, the man mechanically chewing the sustenance that held no flavor, contemplating the residue of his own existence. His gaze shifted to the restroom door, an ominous portal that beckoned him into the abyss of uncertainty.

With a reluctant sigh, he rose, traversing the linoleum expanse toward the unknown. The door creaked open, revealing the cold, unforgiving sanctuary within. Little did he know, behind that indifferent door, a cascade of events awaited, each echoing the harsh inevitability of a life spent grappling with the consequences of flushed dreams.

****

Within the confinements of the restroom, a flickering light above cast feeble illumination on the man’s stoic face. The air hung heavy with the stench of disinfectant, an attempt to mask the pervasive decay inherent in all things. He approached the porcelain throne, a vessel of contemplation and purgation, a cold witness to the ephemerality of human desires.

The man, sleeves rolled with a quiet determination, grappled with the tools at hand – a plastic plunger and a roll of single-ply salvation. The toilet, a stoic sentinel in this dismal theater, bore the scars of previous struggles, evidence of the ceaseless battles waged within these walls.

As he plunged into the abyss, the man confronted not only the physical obstruction but the intangible weight of his own transgressions. The rhythmic thud echoed like a drumbeat in this desolate chamber, a requiem for the sins washed away by the relentless flow of water.

Beyond the door, the indifferent murmur of patrons persisted, a cacophony oblivious to the lone protagonist’s struggle. The man, an existential mariner navigating the treacherous currents of this modern odyssey, fought against the tide of his own creation.

In the solitude of the restroom, time unfolded like a tattered scroll, revealing the universal truth that, in this unforgiving world, even the mundane can metamorphose into an epic quest. The man, sweat-soaked and contemplative, emerged from the battle-scarred battlefield, his countenance a testament to the silent wars fought in the sanctum of sanitation.

As he exited, the restroom’s door swung shut, sealing the chronicles of this unspoken saga within its confines. The man returned to his seat, the shadows of the restroom’s ordeal clinging to him like a spectral shroud. The patrons, indifferent to the clandestine drama that unfolded, continued their ritualistic consumption, unaware of the lone warrior who emerged victorious from the depths of the porcelain abyss.

****

The man, having weathered the storm within the restroom’s cold enclave, returned to the purgatory of Chipotle’s dining expanse. The indifferent rhythm of utensils clinking against trays and the hum of conversation formed a discordant symphony, a background noise to the profound solitude he carried.

The tray, now adorned with remnants of his battle-scarred burrito, lay discarded as a testament to the transient nature of sustenance. The patrons, lost in their own mundane struggles, remained oblivious to the odyssey that had unfolded within the confines of the restroom.

As the man traversed the linoleum plains toward the exit, the neon glow of Chipotle’s sign above seemed to mock him, a silent witness to the ephemeral victories and defeats etched into the fabric of his existence. Each step carried the weight of his journey, a journey that transcended the banality of fast-food rituals.

The door swung open, exposing the man to the harsh realities of the outside world. The cityscape, indifferent to his private saga, sprawled before him like a vast, uncharted frontier. He stepped into the night, the echoes of his odyssey resonating in the empty spaces between urban structures.

In the solitude of the darkened streets, the man walked, his silhouette a solitary figure against the muted glow of city lights. The events of that evening lingered, not as a mere anecdote but as a profound metaphor for the human condition – the relentless struggle against forces both seen and unseen, the quiet battles fought in the shadowy recesses of existence.

As he disappeared into the nocturnal abyss, the man carried the wisdom gained from a Chipotle odyssey, a modern-day pilgrimage through the mundane and the profound. The city swallowed him whole, leaving behind the remnants of a solitary struggle, an unsung epic woven into the fabric of a world indifferent to the quiet heroism of its denizens.