March 7th, 2024. Started out like any other normal day. Waking up around 6.30 am I lay there half asleep, half awake. Pressing the snooze button on my IPhone’s alarm feature, I just lay motionless with my eyes closed. This is typically my morning routine for the first thirty minutes of the day. Lying there snuggled up, I begin to contemplate what I need to do in the morning to get ready for work. Throwing on some sweatpants and my Donald Duck robe, I head downstairs to cultivate some coffee.
Making a fresh brew of Starbuck’s French Roast is always the highlight of my morning ritual. Grinding up the beans gives you fresh hints of the black gold you are cultivating for your household. Utilizing finely filtered water for my java, I always aim to brew the best batch of coffee. Pouring the first cup is always a treat. It tastes the best and seems to be the most potent in the container. Adding some MCT coconut oil to the mix, each sip energizes me and gives me the liquid motivation to engage in some carpe diem. With every quick sip, the deuce juice starts to facilitate a call of nature. Heading to the bathroom with mug in hand, I begin my morning detox.
Sipping and scrolling the morning news on my phone, I feel lighter and emptier. My body has utilized all of the nutrients from last night’s Korean Barbecue giving me a case of the HIHO. Feeling satisfied from my performance I reach over to roll out some bathroom tissue, but alas there is no more. I am out of toilet paper. But something dawns upon me with great urgency. Not only am I out of toilet paper, but that was the last of my pandemic stockpile. Nearly four years after the forced shutdowns, I will have to go to the store today to purchase some more booty wipes to see me through the week. Improvising in the moment, I utilize some leftover face masks to clean my bum.
In March 2020, when the corporate news media told me that a new pathogen was infecting humanity and that everybody needed to hunker down, basic necessities started flying off grocery store shelves. Household staples such as meat, canned beans and hand sanitizer were being horded as panic buying gripped the nation. Then inexplicably cases of TP started getting horded by the fear dominated zombie consumers of America. A soft tissue butt buddy offered you no protection whatsoever from the airborne respiratory virus, but for some reason people decided they weren’t going to hunker down with an unclean ass crack. Not everyone has the luxury of a bidet or even a garden hose. Going with the trend, I immediately took a trip to Costco and bought two super cases of bath tissue that was soft and absorbent. That gave me 80 rolls of toilet paper to ration out during this consumer driven pandemonium. After stockpiling my stash, I took a nap on my couch since I was “wiped” from all the panic buying confusion.
Waking up with a million dollar idea, I immediately invested my life savings into Proctor & Gamble since they are the corporate conglomerate that owns Charmin. Charmin just happens to be the Rolls Royce of toilet paper brands. Making a 2000% return, I credit the corporate media with fooling tens of millions of gullible, brain dead purchasers with buying more shit tickets than they ever needed. The demand was so high that entire boreal forests in the Canadian wilderness were clearcut for everyone had tushy towels for the end of the world. Whatever COVID-19 threw at me I knew my health would be fine, as long as I maintained a clean and hygienic anus. If it meant delivering groceries to the elderly, teaching neighborhood children how to read, or being forced by the National Guard to incinerate bodies from the overflow at the morgue, I was ready to lend a hand as long as I had a clean butthole.
I didn’t know any better at the time, but after listening to all of the “medical experts” on television and the internet I decided to surrender my sovereignty at once. I self-quarantined, masked up 24 hours a day, and purchased an endless supply of silky swirls that would last me for years. After our lord and savior Dr. Anthony Fauci gave press briefings, he always advised us on the importance of social distancing and making sure the nation’s poop chutes maintained an elevated level of cleanliness. If we were going to flatten the curve and get back to normalcy it all depended on Americans keeping their asses free from dingleberries. The John Wayne toilet paper was now a thing of the past. Big fluffy billows were now the new norm.
My massive stash wasn’t always applied to the booty hole. Since I had such a surplus of moon squares I always utilized them for extracurricular activities. Watching the movie Brokeback Mountain repeatedly, I always used a sizable portion of my bowel towels on tears generated during the passing of Ennis Del Mar. Bored one day during the lockdown, I utilized a long section from the hole roll to compose a constitution for my dictatorial HOA. Utilizing the gift wrap I folded origami designs for my elementary aged neighbor kids. Shredding it into confetti we used it for a surprise birthday party for my cousin Kenneth. Feeling frisky, we even used an entire roll mummifying my cat Cindy Clawford into an Egyptian deity. I even fashioned some toilet paper into a face mask when they officially ran out. Freshy fresh has many alternative uses. It’s not always used to keep your b-hole flossed and glossed.
You all heard the horror stories. A roll of one-ply selling for $7 on the black market. People having to use kitchen washcloths and then washing them repeatedly to avoid bum crumbs. I saw one guy that always went to the woods then came out walking funny shortly thereafter. He may have answered the call but a pinecone in the ass sobered him up real quick like. While I was sitting on a pile of white gold, some of my neighbors were experiencing pandemic hell as they had to wipe with sticks and leaves. Maybe if they had heeded the call of incompetent bureaucrats they too could have had enough poop mittens to protect their asses from the dreaded VID. I’m so glad I listened to institutional heads and not my intuition. By sacrificing my citizenship to become a mindless American consumer, I saved my ass from a lot of grief and bung fodder.
Progressing from pandemic to endemic the age of COVID started easing up a bit. An unholy alliance of Big Government and Big Pharma wiped America out as they continue to shit all over the citizenry. These profit driven shitheads shit on your life’s expectations, shit all over your job security, shit on your kids’ education, shit on your ability to move freely, shit on your constitutional rights (using the Bill of Rights in the Capitol Rotunda as asswipe), shit on your Grandma who died lonely in a shitty nursing home, shit on your much needed social circle, caused you to gain weight from gym closures and eating shitty food, shitty inflation, shitty service at post pandemic restaurants, and guiding policy based off of shitty information, made the entire era a gigantic shit show. In case you haven’t already noticed shit rolls down hill and most people now welcome the crappy comings. Follow my lead and build an eagle’s nest with your surplus toilet paper to attract bald eagles. They can serve as a launchpad to spread their wings and fly the next time Pfizer tries to take a nice big steaming dump upon the American people.
December 7, 1941, November 22, 1963, September 11th, 2001, and now March 7th, 2024, will all go down as pivotal moments in American History. When you finally run out of your pandemic toilet paper mark it on your calendars as a holiday. Take the day off from work and go to your local grocery store to finally buy some more ghetto Kleenex. Your family and your butthole are counting on you to do the right thing. Without any tee-pee in your household tipi you might as well be living in a cave. The Pandemic may have deprived you of a lot of creature comforts, but you’d be damned if it ever took away your Sudanese handkerchiefs. Never wave the white flag again. If they ask you for your paperwork present them with your used faxes.
Brian Ss