Toilet Humor

AN EMPTY VOID.

A. FAILED: Good whenever, and welcome back to, “We Had Time to Fill.” I’m a failed thought experiment.

Tonight, we’re here in a vast, empty void to speak with professional recluse and fictional construct who will inevitably and invariably be misconstrued as a personal attack on some random lunatic who absolutely, positively must make everything and anything about themselves regardless of the context or subject matter, Mr. and/or Mrs. Impacted Bowels.

IMPACTED: (WAVES) Hello.

A. FAILED: Tell us a bit about yourself.

IMPACTED: I’d rather not.

A. FAILED: Fascinating. Impacted, is it true that you have not relieved yourself, in a fecal sense, for nearly two years? 

IMPACTED: That’s correct. It’ll be two years next month since the last time I defecated, excreted, or dunged.

A. FAILED: Disgusting. Is this for business or pleasure? Or perhaps for some sort of turdish world record?

IMPACTED: (CHUCKLES) If only. No, it all started two summers ago, when I discovered, while sitting on my toilet, of course, that other people were deeply invested in the whens, whys, and hows of my feculence.

A. FAILED: And how did you come to discover this, exactly?

IMPACTED: They told me.

A. FAILED: They told you?

IMPACTED: In a sense.

A. FAILED: In what sense does one possibly communicate that they wish to be involved in another’s bowel movements?

IMPACTED: In the sense that my neighbor at the time stood in their bathroom above mine, along with several of their friends, and began drunkenly commentating and cackling aloud about how they could hear my turdlacious activities. That and the assorted blogs, vlogs, podcasts, commentary tracks, and an illustrated newsletter that they’ve released in the time since.

A. FAILED: Are you sure such voracious fecalphiles didn’t simply find the sound or smell to be amusing? I mean, no need to kink shame these days, right?

IMPACTED: Perhaps. But funny sounds, smells, and sexual deviancy aside, I did find it rather uncomfortable to perform such things without proper compensation.

A. FAILED: Those cheap bastards.

IMPACTED: Cheap bastards, indeed. So, I set out into the world to find a place in which to unburden my butthole, if you will, in relative peace and quiet.

A. FAILED: And that’s what has brought you here to a dark and endless abyss?

IMPACTED: Eventually, yes. I’ve spent countless hours on the toilets of friends and family, squatted above a variety of portable chemical toilets, swam in the waters of Huntington Beach, and even once glimpsed into the vile hauntings and slitherings of a gas station washroom. And yet – and yet! – none manage to provide either the necessary ambiance or lack of microphones and cameras that I prefer when releasing that sloppy, ooey-gooey mess which weighs me down.

A. FAILED: And have you finally found that ambiance and lack of recording equipment?

IMPACTED: Well, I did until you all blipped into existence.