Millions of people lined feverishly up in the dusty streets to do the dirty, ie brown. Shuffling awkwardly, using their will to hold the avalanche inside, bumping into the crumpled shirt back blocking their view of the toilet door. There was at least one person surreptitiously squatting over the mudholes, hoping not to get caught. Many look at each other, guiltily, professing that unlike what others thought, they just needed a quickie. Most were silent, stomach noises roiling like thunder in the background.
POOP IS COMING, cackled their stomach. There was no telltale pee trickle from inside the looloo, but they were quiet about it. Only one betrayed his inner thoughts as he jostled through the crowd like a tornado, beads of sweat dripping down on his cheek, hammering on the chipped wooden door.
Only yesterday a group was having, gulping, slurping, 3 rounds of tacos, tomato sauce oozing down their wrists and chins, and now they gave each other mirthless, doomed glances. Only at the start of the month had some DIY constructors managed to sneak in some worn materials for another private toilet, and hammered away at it, venturing deep into the woods to do it so the Poop-Busters wouldn't catch them. Most toilets had been moulded economically for the Pee Generation, but it was often all the resources would allow. The Poop Patrol had just the previous month mowed down the doors, confiscated the toiletware and rushed out, to give to the animals. Babies wailed in fright. What was happening? They had not yet been conditioned, but soon would be hushed. Toilet paper was rationed, large meaty fists grabbing it and trailing it out the cocaine laden black market. Up in the sky, the all seeing holographic eye, showing two frightful and glisteningly sneaksome eyes, frittered into the hazy air; the man who made the new announcement, that the mayor's daughter had been banished for sharting. His powerful suaveness made him too magnetic, especially for the youngsters.
"This is a warning. If you are having 'issues', then please go to the pharmacy to buy some constipators. Thank you."
A neocolonialist meddler in all the poor countries, where pooping in the street was thus normal, Terrence Foo, began to put the spotlight on them, funding social media hashtags, until they too, acquiesced. Yes, the other countries laughed, until their constipation could only make them grimace. He was willing to take over ever corner of the world. His toad-like face was a sorry farce that many had to wake up to for announcements about who recently went to the work toilets too long.
Dark days where the decreased toilet hours in the workplace to 2 minutes per person, and each person had to shoot out pellets at the rate of a machine gun. Dark days when Twatter lit up with frenzy as those who pooped projected their anger on themself to a man who clogged the toilet in downtown. The Elite sat on the toilet seats with excellent posture, gingerly on their gold throne, as their poop was holy. They had orders of Higher Creatures to poop, and it was honored.
Public bathroom visits were charged at $10 per second. Many were outside protesting, but an increasing number of idiots were sitting in front of their TV, laughing along with a sense of comraderie with anti-poop reality TV stars, materialistic twats copying a couple of A-Listers promoting their anti-poop regimen and fad diet, a status symbol of the ultra greedy. The screen lit up to reflect the awe of Joshua, a random lucky winner, going to the juice cleanse clinic to get a butthole detox.
After years of ruin after a Cold War turned Poop War, the strangest power-hungry dictator known to man, had one goal: women should not poop, ascended the throne. In glee, a Russian troll splatted a gaseous concoction made in a pristine white lab, a fart bomb, onto the American people. This shook the country and divided it, many vomiting green and yellow as soon as they left the house, humiliated, and they began to acquiesce to their lady's hangups. Little revolution was performed with conviction. It was, in fact, realistic. Loud sound effect PRRFTTT, great bubbles toggled on, and it fell over much of Florida, where the mayhem was said to have started. His descendant was prim and proper, raised to equally run from every whiff of poop he could find. Animals pooped, not humans. And with his poop denial, came the poop denial of the century. Mass poop denial.
Men in dark nylon suits talked over their profits. Beautiful packaging, but clogging up the systems. Endless rows of gorgeous glossy boxes of anti poop medication took up the shelves for residential stays at University. "One Month Supply For College Students, 2 cents off!"
