I don’t shit in the morning. I’m an evening shitter — either as soon as I get home from work or sometime after dinner. Friday, though, Stupid White Ass thought it would try something new. It got itself real excited about it too. It just couldn’t wait (very low emotional intelligence score; stupid ass).
Friday was a terrible day for it too. It was an unusual work day and I had about an extra hour in the morning before I needed to leave, so I slept in. Now, I don’t shit in the morning, and I don’t rush either. I like to wake up, shower, get dressed, make coffee and breakfast, then sit and relax for a bit, watch and read the news, and check the weather while I eat and caffeinate.
Everything was proceeding according to plan when Stupid White Ass got its own ideas.
I made a cup of coffee and put some bread in the toaster. I’d drank about a third of the cup when the toast popped. On the way to the kitchen Stupid White Ass said, “Hey, I want to take a shit.”
I’m pretty easygoing, so even though a morning shit was out of the ordinary, I said, “No problem Ass, just let me butter this toast and after breakfast we’ll get the job done.”
As I’m grabbing the toast Ass says, “No, I wanna take a shit right now.”
“Easy there Ass,” I say. “You’re going to have to wait. You wait all the time. You missed a whole day of shitting earlier this week just because I was stupid busy one day and didn’t finish working until 11:00 at night, then just passed out. You were cool, just letting me know every now and then, saying ‘Hey buddy, I got some shit ready down here if you’ve got a minute.’”
“Fuck you!” said Ass, as I put the toast on a plate and went to the fridge to grab the butter. “I wanna shit right now.”
“Fucking relax!” I reply, “at least let me butter the damn toast while it’s hot. I hate when the butter doesn’t melt into the toast.”
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Ass yelled.
“Fuck off!” I said, getting a touch angry now. I only had one piece of toast buttered. I scooped some butter for the second piece and had just put knife to bread when Stupid White Ass went too far.
“Fuck me? No, FUCK YOU!!” it yelled, “I’m fuckin’ shitting right now!”
“Jesus Fucking Christ!” I screamed as I grabbed my ass cheeks and ran for the bathroom. “You asshole!”
So I shit a big morning shit. And it was a gross one. It was all creamy and stunk like shit, both literally and figuratively. You know it’s bad when your own shit stinks. I mean, everyone’s shit stinks, but when your own stinky shit grosses you out, that’s just gross. It took a shitload of wiping too, which was especially bad because I’d already had a shower.
I saw Howard Stern on Letterman once and he was talking about shit. He said that if a shit needs more than three wipes, just take a shower. That stuck with me and has become a guideline in my life.
Stupid White Ass’s Friday morning shit definitely needed more than three wipes. The shower was right there, but my coffee was getting cold, and I still needed to butter the second piece of toast, and there was no way it was still going to be hot enough to melt the butter. So I wiped the shit out of my ass. I mean, I really wiped the shit out of my ass. I even double flushed the paper because I used so much (remember the clogging issue).
Sure enough, the toast was cold. I had one piece of cold-but-with-melted-butter toast and one piece of cold-with-cold-unmelted-butter toast, and two-thirds of a cup of lukewarm coffee. And I was still unsure whether or not I had made the right choice in not taking a second shower. Plus, now I had to rush, and I hate rushing in the morning.
It ruined my whole day. I felt dirty. I showered as soon as I got home. A long hot shower to wash away the dirty shame.
Stupid white ass