I think my favorite type of guy is the guy who will shit in every toilet he sees. Like, I worked with a guy who would blow up the break room toilet where dozens of coworkers, both male and female, would congregate and then he’d walk out and the stench of raunch shit would blanket the break area and the dude would act like it was nothing. And when I was in the Army, there was a tool crib/warehouse-like area that had an open air bathroom attached to it, and this mother fucker would go in there and blast his asshole every morning for the whole warehouse to hear. There seems to be an unspoken rule about certain toilets at the workplace, like some toilets are meant for pissing only. No matter. If a toilet can handle shit, someone will inevitably shit in it. It’s a hardwired rule of the universe, much like Newton’s laws of thermodynamics.
As usual I strolled into work five hours late and headed straight for the bathroom. I went into the one empty stall and dropped my pants to unload an ungodly duce which was the result of drinking two six packs and eating multiple cans of Vienna sausages the night before. But as I was desperately trying to squeeze the turd from my ass I could hear pathetic whimpering from the stall next to me.
I pounded on the wall. “Hey buddy! Can you keep it down over there?!” I shout.
The crying intensified.
Through the boo-hooing and unbearable cramping of my intestines I focus on unleashing the brown beast desperately trying to escape my body. But the man next to me only howled. And as he howled so too did the wretched stench blasting out of my butthole. Finally I had enough. I unfurl half a role of toilet paper to wipe my ass and there was nothing on it. Not a speckle of shit. My stomach was a raging and boiling mess. Though the attempt to free the monstrous brown bear creeping through my body had failed I knew that someway and somehow it would find a way out. But that moment wasn’t now. So I pull up my pants and flush the toilet filled with tissue as clean as unadulterated snow and depart the toilet knowing full well that this piece of porcelain will eventually face the wrath of my ass.
I forgo washing my hands and pound on the neighboring stall door. “I hope you’re happy,” I say to the pathetic whimpering man inside, “I can’t shit because of you. This is an unforgivable transgression!”
“I’m sorry James. I can’t control myself,” the voice said.
“Dale?”
“Yes James. It is I.”
“Step out,” I order. “Face me like a man you weakling!”
Dale unlocks the door and steps out with his head bowed like a yellow-bellied coward. His eyes were bloodshot and his face crusted by streams of tears. I was disgusted. “You sad little man,” I tell him.
He cries again.
“Don’t yell at me,” he begs. “My wife ran off with a knife salesman down to Kokomo. My son’s in jail for vehicular manslaughter and my doctor will no longer prescribe me dick pills.”
I slap him across the face. “Good!” I tell him, “a little adversity serves a man well from time to time. And you my dear Dale could use some shaping up! Look at you for Christ sake! Your tits are flopping out from behind your overalls!”
A fresh batch of tears flow from his eyes. “I can’t handle life no more!” he cries.
“There there,” I tell him. “There’s always hope. God is dead and when you die your memories fade away forever. A few will mourn your death but within weeks and months no one will think of you again. The universe is an empty and meaningless vortex that expands into infinity until it mercifully fades away into a quiet heat death. Then all that was will be no more. And when that day comes your concerns will seem like a speck floating on in an immense void shrouded in darkness. Some say there is no hope in this world but dare I say where gods cease to roam is where I find freedom! Seize this life! No one can do it but you!”
Dale nods his head. “I think I see what you’re saying,” he says. He wipes snot from his nose. “You’re saying I should take a loaded Colt .45 down to South Florida and settle matters with my wife’s lover.”
I throw my arm around his shoulder. I give him a warm embrace. “Now you’re getting it,” I say. “And don’t forget: you ARE god.”
I patted him on the back and he left the bathroom with his head held high like a man born anew. But my stomach still cramped. I exited through the front lobby where I was intercepted by the boss man. I tried to ignore him as I walked out the front door. “Is this an excused absence?” he shouted at me before the door closed.
I stood with one foot outside as I turned towards him. “Of course,” I lied, “I have an emergency.”
“You gotta get me out of this,” Darrel pleaded to his agent. “I’m not even supposed to be talking to you on the phone. If they find it, they won’t feed me!”
“Well I’m going through the agreement now and I’m sorry Darrel, it’s pretty ironclad,” Big Beef explained. “Besides, how bad can it be? It’s only a goddamn seminar!”
“I’m telling ya: Darrel, the other one, is trying to kill me here! Is there anything in the agreement about accidental death?”
Big Beef scanned the pages again. “Yes there is: in the event of your death, the publisher is entitled to the rights of your entire bibliography plus a $50 million payout from insurance.”
“Damn it Big Beef! Why did you let me sign that?”
“I thought you read through the whole thing!”
“I’m telling you Beef, when I get out of here I’m gonna shove my fist right up your….”, a big beefy guard interrupted the conversation by tapping Darrel on the shoulder. Darrel turned around and the guard snatched the phone and crushed it with his bare hand, case protector and all.
“Back to the auditorium,” the guard ordered.
“Can I at least piss first?” Darrel asked.
“No.”
Darrel slowly walked back into the auditorium trying to hold his piss in and took his seat. On stage we’re five volunteers sitting in a row, one of whom being Janet Young. They all had a look of death on their faces.
Moments later, Dr. Paul Westinghouse hopped back on stage with all smiles. His face was bandaged up from the ass pounding he took earlier. “Alright,” he said to the audience, “the first lesson in teamwork is sacrifice. I just had all of you drink one gallon of water. So shortly everyone will be pissing their pants. Fortunately we can avoid this embarrassing situation if one of our five volunteers makes a valuable sacrifice.”
Everyone looked at each other while the five volunteers sat stone faced. “So allow me to explain the situation,” Paul continued. “All five of our volunteers have ate a fully stuffed burrito each. But here’s the catch: one of the burritos was laced with an insane amount of laxatives. And those burritos were PACKED with jalapeños, eggs, beans, cheese, you name it. So that shit gon STANK.” Paul then took a second to readjust himself for dramatic effect. “Fortunately for that individual,” he continued, “if one of the other four members volunteers to shit their pants in front of everyone, then everybody in attendance will be dismissed to use the bathroom and/or change their underwear. If the random person who ate the laced burrito shits their pants first, then that person will be forced to sit in their shitty underwear all night. Moreover, if anyone in the audience pisses their pants before any of the five volunteers shit, this process will start all over again. Any questions?”
Silence befell the room.
“Alright! So someone better start shitting or else this entire auditorium will be flooded with piss!”
So the toilet factory is back to its same old shit. They tell me now that I need to stop taking extra long shit breaks. And I tell them that extra long shit breaks are good for the company because shitting is why we’re in business!
This is stressful. I am tired, depressed, and disappointed that I put this much effort into this shit business only to get treated like shit itself in return.
But today’s kinda an emotional day for me. This was the first time I stood up against authority…and WON. But where there are victors, there are also losers. And it will take time for these wounds to heal.
Yet today’s a new day at the toilet factory. And you can rest assured that I will always stand up for your right to shit.
“He’s close,” Archibald said as he dug his fingers into the soil.
“How can you tell?” I asked.
“There’s a steaming pile of bloody shit right there,” he replied. I looked to the right and lo and behold, right there a reeking pile of human poop.
“It seems like you’ve done this many times before,” I said to him.
“Far too often.”
The four of us-Archibald, Darla, Allen Funt, and myself- trekked through the woods in search of a mentally deteriorating William Shitz. The sun was starting to set. A gentle gust was blowing in from the north; a storm was brewing. While we found hopeful signs that Mr. Shitz was still alive, we only covered a small portion of the 148,971 acres that he owned.
We decided to hunker down for the night. I put together a small fire in the middle of camp. As usual, Allen Funt couldn’t stop crying. “What are we gonna do when we find him?” he bawled.
“We’re gonna kill him,” Archibald replied as he gnawed on a piece of beef jerky.
“But why 😭😭😭😭?” Funt asked.
Archibald threw down his jerky and pulled out a small machete. He grabbed Allen and held him up to a tree with the blade up to his neck. “Because Mr. Shitz wishes it!” Archibald screamed.
“Gentlemen!” I interrupted. “We must maintain our composure! Let’s not make any decisions on Mr. Shitz until we find him!”
Archibald nodded and lowered the machete from Allen’s neck. “I know what I must do,” he said as he slid the blade back into its holster. Then he looked me in the eye. “Just don’t forget what YOU must do.”
Archie climbed back into his tent for the night. So did Allen Funt, as he soiled his pants for the second time that day. Darla and I sat by the fire.
“Why did your father love your mother?” I asked her.
“You really are some kind of fucking moron,” she said as she lowered the flask from her lips. “Why don’t you understand the simplest of human concepts? Are you some kind of alien?”
“In a way,” I replied as I took a swig from the same flask.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Probably not! But try me! Nobody, not even Archie, understands your sudden appearance in my father’s life.”
I took another big hit from the flask. “It is my duty,” I explained, “to guide your father into the next life. Or at least it was. You see, I was his guardian…but I fell out of heaven’s grace.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she replied. “So if you’re his disgraced guardian angel, then why are you bothering to fulfill your heavenly duties?”
“It’s a long story,” I said. “Redemption I suppose.”
“For what?”
“I…I guess I thought I could be human,” I stuttered. “But I never grasped human love. I was damned…damned to walk the earth; being neither human nor angel. I thought I could do one last thing…revealing to your father love and compassion in his final days; the kind he has never felt before. But then something strange happened.”
“What happened?” Darla asked longingly.
“I met you.”
Darla chuckled and shook her head. “You’re just another drunk weirdo that’s wandered into my life,” she said. Then she stood up and brushed the dirt and leaves from her jeans as the rain started sprinkling down. “But,” she continued, “you ain’t a bad fuck. So you’re welcome to join me in my tent. Just TRY to last longer than two minutes this time, mmk?”
“The arctic fox spends its days burrowing underground and avoiding contact with its own kind,” Mr. Shitz explained while staring down the sights of his shotgun. “It’s a solitary animal, much like myself. When it dies, it dies alone.”
Mr. Shitz pulled the trigger, unleashing the sound of hell. A helpless fox, only a few yards ahead, exploded into a million pieces, leaving only fur and guts strewn about.
After witnessing the appalling sight, Allen Funt started heaving at the foot of a tree. With a slight smile on his face, Mr. Shitz reloaded the shotgun. “Mr. Funt,” he said, “I do believe it’s your turn.”
“No thank you, sir,” Mr. Funt replied as tears streamed down his face, “I just don’t have it in me!”
“Goddamnit Allen!” Shitz yelled, “I will be dead in less than a year and you will be the CEO of a billion dollar company! Now if you want PTO, a livable wage, and health insurance, you will senselessly kill the last surviving member of this species into extinction!”
“I can’t!”
Shitz cocked the shotgun and directed towards Funt. “You will!” he declared.
“Oh god I’m gonna die!!!”
“Gentlemen,” I interrupted, “what’s the meaning of this? Mr. Shitz, please lower your weapon.”
Allen Funt pissed his pants as he had a stare down with Mr. Shitz. He also shit pants. After a few moments, William came to his senses and lowered the shotgun.
“My apologies, gentlemen,” Mr. Shitz said. “Mr. Funt, it was my hope that killing these animals would give you the courage to turn this shotgun on me. It was my dream to be executed by the man who would supplant me as CEO.”
William then looked out onto the field to admire the last surviving arctic fox. It was juxtaposed proudly against the endless horizon. “It’s just you and me!” William yelled to the animal, “we’re the last of our kind!”
He dropped the shotgun by his side then looked over to me. “Mr. Grey,” William said, “you are my protector; my guide across the river Styx. But I’m not ready to punch that ticket.”
Mr. Shitz started stripping off his clothes, down to his underwear. Finally his bare cock was flapping in the wind. It was cold that day.
“Jim Grey,” William continued, “if you want me dead, you’ll have to catch me first.”
Allen Funt and I then watched Mr. Shitz’s flabby asscheeks jiggle as he hopped like a jackrabbit into the tree line.
It’s been a LONG time since I wrote a story. So here’s a goddamn story.
Sorry about all the sacrilegious stuff lately. I’m just working through stuff
Like I always say: I ain’t promising that this story will be good.
“Cleveland. Shit,” I uttered to myself. “Still only in Cleveland.”
“What’s that, Jack?” the Chief asked.
“Nothing, Chief,” I replied. “It’s just that I’ve been stuck in this godforsaken city for the last two months.”
“Eh,” the Chief shrugged, “at least it ain’t Cincinnati.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I replied as I lit up a cigarette. “What do you got for me?”
“A triple homicide. Two dead hookers and an anonymous John.”
“So the usual, huh?” I said.
“Jesus Christ, Jack! Do you want the case or not?! I’ve got two detectives downstairs itching for a case like this and you’re up here bitching like a little bitch!”
“Don’t use that language around me Chief,” I replied. “I was raised Southern Baptist.”
“My mistake, Jack,” the Chief said, “you know me, I always try to be respectful of other people’s belief’s. Except for Seven Day Adventist.”
“Word.”
“So what’s it gonna be Jack? Do you want the case or not?”
I put out my cigarette and grabbed the file. “I guess so Chief,” I said, “Sometimes I wish the Lord would come back and unleash hell on this town. If it ain’t a serial killer, it’s some goddamn junkie robbing his grandmother for his next fix. I swear, you unbelievers will learn the vengeance of God! May this city be cast into Hell!”
The Chief got on his knees and begged for mercy. “Please Jack! Don’t let me burn in hell for all of eternity!”
“Then accept the Lord Jesus Christ into your heart,” I said, “and pray for the forgiveness of your sins.”
And on February 23rd, 2022, the Chief accepted Salvation through Jesus Christ.
After the Chief’s conversion, I loaded my .38 and asked God to guide my bullets into the bodies of my enemies. “Thank you Lord,” I prayed, “let vengeance be Yours…and mine.”
I kissed the barrel of my gun and entered the mean streets of Cleveland. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil,” I uttered.
I grabbed the first pedestrian I saw on the streets. “Do you recognize this man?” I asked while holding up a picture of one of the victims.
“No,” they replied.
I slapped them across the face with the butt of my gun. “Liar!” I yelled, “Do you know what the Lord does to liars? He mutilates their genitals and they feast on them in heaven! So don’t let the devil catch your tongue! For it’s not the devil you should worry about if that happens! It’s GOD. And you WILL know God’s wrath AND the wrath of my .38!”
After the pedestrian pissed their pants, they confessed the victim’s name: Art McGarth.
So I let that poor sack of shit go and lit up a cigarette. “Not bad for an honest day’s work,” I thought.
Guys, honestly, I just want to get through this story as quickly and painlessly as possible. I don’t like it anymore than you do.
But we gotta get through it.
Sorry 🤷♂️
John’s abnormally large penis continued to dangle in the wind the next morning. “I need full mobility,” he said, “if I wore the loincloth, I would be constricted.”
Alyssa didn’t argue as she was ready to return to civilization. She was concerned for her brother, Geoff, who was usually always by her side.
“We’re running out of water,” Alyssa said while they were trekking through the woods.
“You needn’t worry,” John replied as he was urinating in his canteen. “My kidneys work at 100% efficiency. I piss pure water.”
Alyssa took a swig from the canteen. The water tasted as pure as a cold mountain spring. She couldn’t contain her feelings any longer. “John, we need to talk,” she said.
“Not now. I’m about to strangle a raccoon.”
“John I love you. I know that we met last week, but you’re the man I’ve been waiting for. When we get out of the woods, I want to settle down and spend the rest of my life with you. I think God put us together for a reason. Please…please, I hope you feel the same way.”
“My ass!” John screamed as he started writhing on the forrest floor.
“What’s wrong?!” Alyssa asked.
“My IBS is acting up!”
Alyssa began consoling John as he ceaselessly shat himself. To make matters worse, she noticed two small bear cubs investigating the scene. “Please God, help us!” she prayed.
Without warning, the mother bear snuck up and bit into Alyssa’s hair, flinging her several feet away. John, being an experienced survivalist, started to play dead.
The mother bear sniffed John’s body, and bit a chunk out of his shoulder. As he screamed out, she bit into his arm and started shaking him like a rag doll.
As John passed out from shock, the bear began sniffing his buttcrack. Because he was unconscious, he no longer had control of his faculties. Shit started squirting out of his rectum and onto the startled bear. Frightened by the horrendous stench, the bear and her two cubs fled the scene.
Alyssa was momentarily knocked out from the throw. When she awoke, she saw John’s blood and shit soaked body laying unconscious. “John!” she screamed.
She made a makeshift tourniquet using her shirt which successfully stopped the bleeding.
“John! John! Wake up!” Alyssa yelled as she smacked his face.
“Everything will be alright, Alyssa. I’ve been in this situation many times before,” John said as he came to. “Just do as I say: I don’t think I can walk. You’re gonna have to drag me to safety.”
She began to cry. “I don’t think I’m strong enough!”
Using his one good arm, John grabbed her head. “God never burdens us with more than we can handle,” he assured her, “you can do this.”
She nodded and prayed as tears streamed down her face. Using all her might, Alyssa threw John’s arm around her neck and lifted John’s limp body around her shoulders.
***
“I can’t get cell phone reception out here,” Geoff said as he was floating down river with Ted and Becky.
“That’s because you’re using a Motorola StarTAC. Those things haven’t worked since 1998,” Ted replied.
Becky was sitting restlessly in the middle of the canoe. “I’m sure Alyssa and John are fine. I’m ready to go home. Let the park rangers find them,” she said.
“No!” Ted exclaimed. “I swore an oath to God that I would protect Alyssa’s virginity and I intend to keep that oath!”
“But Alyssa’s not a virgin,” Geoff said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I read her journal and sniff her panty-uhh, I mean-I’m her brother. She tells me these things.”
“Nevertheless,” Ted continued, “if she’s gonna have sex with John outside of marriage, her pastor has to be there to watch it. The Bible says so.”
Becky and Geoff nodded in agreement and continued to watch the river’s edge for signs of John and Alyssa.
“There!” Geoff yelled out.
Several yards ahead was a short topless woman carrying a large naked man around her shoulders. “Praise Jesus and all of his Glory!” Ted cried out.
Look, I’m trying to get to the good stuff (all the nasty sex). But I’m trying to get there organically, alright? Give me a break.
At the campfire, Geoff was playing Nearer, My God, To Thee on his acoustic guitar.
“Maybe you should put that away,” Alyssa told him.
Nine church goers were attending the camping trip in total. Brother Ted walked back to the camp after reliving himself in the river. “Woo! That water’s cold!” he declared.
He sat down at the edge of the fire and took out his Bible. “Being in nature reminds me of the awesome power of God,” Ted said. “But 1 John tells us to hate the world and everything in it. All of it will be destroyed in the Second Coming. None of this matters.” He then grabbed a trash bag and dumped its contents on the ground.
Alyssa tried to get close to John, but it appeared that she had competition. Sister Becky was close to Alyssa’s age. She was the touchy-feely type, laughed at every joke…even when a joke wasn’t being told. Most men responded to her flirty nature, but John was different. Alyssa tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“When I returned from Iraq, I successfully underwent conversion therapy,” John told Becky, “I haven’t had those kinds of feelings in nearly 2 years.”
“You’re such a brave man,” Becky responded as she gently touched his arm. Alyssa typically wasn’t the jealous type, but Becky was really trying her.
Everyone began roasting marshmallows and hotdogs but John took out a pork shoulder. He could have easily pulled back the plastic film covering it but used his Bowie knife instead.
“Shouldn’t you cook that before you eat it?” Brother Ted asked. “Nonsense,” John replied as he tore into the meat with his teeth, “God gave our bodies everything we need to digest raw pork.”
***
Alyssa woke up in the middle of the night to relieve herself. She walked a few yards from the camp and squatted behind a tree. While peeing, she heard painful grunts coming a few feet away.
“Who’s there?” she whispered into the dark. But All she heard was more grunting.
When she finished, Alyssa stood up and began wondering towards the direction of the sound. Behind another tree was John, pants around his ankles, squatting in agonizing pain.
“Are you okay?!” she asked him.
“I feel like my guts exploded!” John replied. He was blasting out one fart after another.
“I’ll go get help!”
“No!” John exclaimed, “I can’t let them see me like this! You gotta help me!”
“What can I do?”
“Just stay here with me.”
Alyssa knelt down beside John and held his hand. He started expelling an ungodly amount of diarrhea out of his anus. The stench was almost unbearable. When he finished, he looked up to her with his bloodshot, watery eyes.
“Thank you,” John said. Alyssa gave him a smile.
Afterwards, he stood up and washed his fecal-covered buttcrack in the river. When he finished, he walked back to Alyssa. As he took her by the hand, he said to her, “You can’t tell anyone about this.”
She nodded in return.
The two went back to their tents. As Alyssa climbed into her sleeping bag, she thought about John and thanked God for giving her such an intimate moment with him.
The next morning, groups were pairing up for the canoe trip. Becky approached John to row down river with her. He paused and scratched his forehead. “Uhh, actually I was planning to go with Alyssa,” he told her.
Becky stood up straight. “Alyssa? Really? But I assure you that I’m a much better rower than her,” she said.
“Good! That’s why you should go with Geoff.”
As Geoff was putting on his life jacket, John grabbed him and paired him with Becky. “Good luck!” he told him, and paddled off with his sister.
“Geoff’s not gonna like that,” Alyssa said, “he’s the jealous type.”
“Sorry, but I figured that I owe you an explanation for last night,” John replied.
“None’s necessary, John. You see, I get the bubble guts too.”
“I don’t think you understand,” he said. “I have IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So you understand why I hope we can keep this a secret.”
“But why John? Why?”
“Because…,” he gave a long pause, “I was laughed at as a child. Everyone called me Mr.Poopypants. I couldn’t walk 10 feet without poop running down the back of my legs. I had to tape up the bottom of my jeans to prevent turds from slipping out and everyday my pants would fill up with poopoo.”
Tears began to well up in John’s eyes. “Everyone thinks that I’m some kind of hero,” he continued, “but in my own mind, I’m always gonna be Mr. Poopypants.”
With his back against her, Alyssa wrapped her arms around John’s body and placed her head just below his neck. “You’re not Mr. Poopypants to me, John. Your secret is safe. But maybe you should stop eating raw pork.”
John placed his left hand top of Alyssa’s that was resting on his chest. “I’m glad I’ve finally met someone like you,” he said.
The Internet Ruined Everything 