NEW CHALLENGER

A five second shotgun of shit. The porcelain reservoir that houses my backlogged accounts needs prepping every time I sit on it. As I quickly wash down the seat with paper towel soaked in water and soap I think about how neuroses, cleanliness, minutia, pathos and eros are disguised in an excuse to not attain some sort of dick and ass disease one might procure from the germ-filled toilet seat. I sit. I push. I look at the walls: etchings, drawings, the modern day paintings of cave men lost in having to voice themselves. Witty remarks about the mundane followed by phone numbers offering head, drugs, good times, and wisdom. I flush it all down and wipe my ass with a moist paper. Twenty minutes of sanctuary and my right leg feels numb. Bad circulation. Overall good times had by all.

- Senor Franco