The Pottyarchy: Chapter One

There they were, scattered all over the floor. Children. Piles of children. Contaminated with feces. There was no hope. I was one of those children.


It was a Tuesday morning and I was taking a walk to the bathroom in the park. I never use my home bathroom.  My mom doesn’t let me. We have 17 bathrooms in our house and each time I attempt to use one, I get lost. My father says it’s because my mom gave me a wrong map. When I asked her about this, she told me to get the updated version. What does that even mean? Even though she lets our 17 dogs use each and every one of them. She tells the seventeenth dog to go to the bathroom even if she doesn’t want to go because she’s so set on me not using the home bathroom.

One day I was too late to walk 15 miles to the nearest park bathroom, like I have done for the past 10 years. For the first time ever I decide to ask the neighbor to use her bathroom. I knocked three times. I woke up on the sidewalk with a couch next to me. She threw it at me.

I guess I was unconscious because it’s been 3 days and i’m sitting in a pile of poo and pee. I desperately needed a shower, but I was not allowed in the bathroom at my house- for showers or excretion. So I did what anyone would do, I went to the city lake, like I have done since I was a child. Of course I get dirty looks from the folks that walk by, but that only encourages me to get even more clean so I can wash their dirty looks off. I grabbed the dog shampoo I had brought with me, I took it without mom knowing, and began washing my greasy hair with the nuclear green water. I dried myself off with some poison ivy branches and took a second to check myself out in the reflection of the lake. I put on my school clothes that I leave behind the bushes and tried to look my best for Nancy Claire – but we call her NaCl for short because she’s basic and salty, that’s what I love most about her. Sometimes I think of taking the city bus to school but I have no funds to pay for the ticket. One time I asked my dad if I could have some money for bus fare and he said yes. I got so excited but almost cried when he handed me a receipt from the lunch he had earlier. Still, I was grateful because this was the only thing I had received in 4 years. That and the bathroom my mom installs every year for my birthday. She promised me once I turned 88 I could use one. 71 more years to go! As you can tell my mother is very fond of my presence. She blesses me everyday with a “Good bye you useless tard.” I sometimes complain a lot and I immediately regretted it because she sent me to the sin bin™.

I found the nearest Mastiff and rode it to school. I’ve managed to learn how to tame these gentle, wild beasts. Each one I find always has a collar and I don’t understand why people are trying to chain them down. I decided that going to school would be useless since I already had enough pictures and mementos of Nancy Claire, so I went home. When I took my Mastiff home my mother threw a bigger fit than the actual dog. She ran to the home office and pulled out a big blue sheet of paper for the new bathroom blueprints; I guess the dog is staying!

“Come on, Doug. We’re going to town,” Mother says in an angry whisper while putting her rabbit pelt on around her waist.

I grabbed my plastic grocery bag, that I call a suitcase, and got into the limousine. “OK Mother,” I said obediently.

We got to the sketchy part of town- close to Hicksville. We passed the sign that read “Welcome to Hicksville, Get out if you’re a Democrat.” I laughed with joy as I thought of contacting my fellow cult members of the Whig party. My mother kicked me out of the limo.

“I’ll come pick you up in a few hours,” Mother said as she took out the grey sparkly slip-on tube dress that she kept underneath all the champagne, I could only think of a few places she would go and none of them included my father.  

I collected myself from the ground and began walking towards the nearest cemetery. As I strolled through town voices chanted “Off With Obama” and guns sang their cacophonous dark melody. I found myself nearing the cemetery, according to the map I was carrying with me. I peeked around the last corner, before arriving to my destination, and saw four different groups: one of missionaries who were passionately yelling about the religious persecution Christians are facing, another that looked like a small militia with guns and shirts that read “Gun totin’, bible preachin’, son of a gun”, one who focused their attention on burning down dolls with pictures of Obama’s face on their head and finally, a group that contained all three at once -otherwise known as the republican party.  Colt Ford – Answer to No One ft. JJ Lawhorn

I go to the third mausoleum on the 37th row. This is where I keep my photos and mementos of Nancy Claire. I found a picture of Vladimir Putin riding a Ritz cracker.

“What’s this?” I ask to no one in particular. The silence responds with a crow in the background.

“A gift,” says some mysterious voice that I didn’t recognize.


Continue the adventure: 


North Mesquite High School, blue prints author. Sophomore and band aficionado.

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