Defecations

Well shit. Life is shit sometimes, isn’t it? Sometimes the weather is shit. Sometimes your dog is shit to you or your family or friends and sometimes your coworker. But it’s not always the others. Sometimes it’s just you who’s shit. So this is a story about how I was the shit one. 

I was 28, financially stable had a nice girlfriend, with whom I lived in a nice apartment. I grew up in a lovely North Carolina suburb, I had a loving and nurturing childhood and upbringing. My lunch bag was always ready and packed For me when I headed out for school and my parents always brought flowers after my school plays. 

Life was good. Truly good and loving and perfect. Fucking perfect. And I don’t mean that in a passive aggressive way. Everything was perfect. So perfect that I got used to it, way too used to it. People all around me were screwed up and wallowed in their pity and I was just there, doing fine. Living happily. 

So that takes me to me at 28. Let’s recap. Good job, nice apartment, and lovely girlfriend. Sounds good right? Oh, it really was. 

So what exactly lead me to do that horrible thing. No, I did not cheat on my girlfriend. I did something way more stupid. But more on that later.

Early in December Basti, my very handsome coworker has brought in cookies to work. I could go on hours and hours describing them. They were those gooey chocolate chip cookies, like the ones from the subway when they’re fresh out of the oven. Just picture it right now, did you? Fucking amazing right. 

I can’t believe my way to prison started with a fucking batch of cookies. 

So what do you do when your coworker brings in amazing food to work, next week it’s your turn right? Common courtesy. So one night late at night my girlfriend and I are baking cookies for work. We are kind of on the edge between tipsy and drunk, that flirty but bullshitty zone. Where you might have sex on the kitchen counter or prank call the secret service ,there’s no in-between. No, we did not call the secret service, we weren’t that dumb. 

But we did mix laxatives into the cookie batter. Why? I don’t know. I don’t remember a lot from that night except for the fact that we did not have sex in the kitchen. Bummer. 

So the next day, I bring the cookies to work. And all the people just rave over them, already begging me to bring them to the Christmas party. I gloat in the sunshine of admiration. Half an hour later the whole floor is nervously standing in line for the bathroom. 35 minutes later 4 grown men have shit their pants and one woman has fainted. My memory dawns on me and I get panicky. I quickly spread cookie crumbs all over my work desk, this cannot be seen as an attack or a prank on my side. So quickly a part of my brain that I did not know existed before springs to life. ACT!!! Act the living hell out of this.

So I begin to moan, groan, hold my stomach, and I sprint down to my car, get inside shut the door, and breathe. 

And then. A huge smile breaks out on my face. I just made my whole office floor shit their pants. A laugh erupts from my throat. And I can’t hold back to save my life. I laugh so hard that I cry. I drive home and my laughter fades, only a small smile remains. 

My girlfriend is sitting on the couch. Hair disheveled, nails gnawed, and her knee nervously bouncing up and down. When she looks up at me I see her dark under-eye bags “ fuck what did we do” she whispers, what the actual fuck did we do” 

Careful, I set down my bag and coat and cross the living room to sit next to her. “It’s ok, nothing bad happened, it was very funny. Why are you so worked up about this “ “ BECAUSE WE DONT DO THAT SORT OF STUFF WHAT THE HELL GOT INTO US” she screams, eyes wide? She seems scared, scared of her capabilities. All this fear over a bit of shit. I don’t understand. „ we have to tell them, we have to tell them, we have to tell them..“ she whimpers in sort of a mantra. 

My brain once again kicks into hyperdrive. NO this cannot happen, it will not. 

I put on my best sorry face and put my head in my hands. „I’ll tell them“ I whisper. 

„Thank you“ she whispers, grabs a blanket, and lays down to sleep. Her hair falling in her face, this had a big strain on her. And me? It just made me happy. 

Weird. 

I awkwardly patted her shoulder, stood up, and left. I strolled around town for the rest of the day. She would have to think I was apologizing. But I wasn’t sorry. That was the hardest I had ever laughed at in my whole life.

When it got darker and colder I went into a small grocery store and bought something to heat up later and make it up with my girlfriend. Flowers caught my eye, and before I knew it I had left the store. Flowers and bag in hand. Having paid only for the food. That same grin from before appeared on my face, I almost felt it hurting. Reaching up and touching my face I only then realized that I was smiling. My smile fell into a frown, I could not properly remember stealing the flowers. For last night I had blamed the alcohol. But for this, I was stone-cold sober. 

I sat in my car. Confused, everything felt dull and strange. And then everything let go and I laughed. It’s like I laughed 28 years of being perfect off my soul. 

Brain empty. But in a good way. 

When I got home she was still asleep, I made the food, put the flowers in a vase, and woke her up. We had a quiet dinner and didn’t talk much. She still seemed pretty out of it and dragged herself wrapped in a blanket cape to the couch. plopped down and stayed silent. 

I was still raving inside, but a good kind of rave, the hallucinogenic type. 

The next morning when I got to work everyone seemed to be back. Everyone but Hilde. An old lady working part-time to put her grandkids to college. The definition of dedication as some would call her. Day after she was also missing. And the day after too. I began to grow worried. She had always looked after me like I was her grandchild. And damn she also made great cookies. 5th day, still a no show. 6th workday, everyone was wearing black. Whispers and quiet sobs were heard all around the office. I felt like I was walking through a funeral scene in a theater play. I knocked on Bastis's door. He opened, eyes puffy and empty. “What happened” “it’s Hilde, during the shit fest she fainted, got transported to the hospital, had some complications with preexisting conditions, and died yesterday morning” 

Silence. 

“So you mean she shit herself to death” 

So obviously something had seriously flipped in my brain, I don’t know what, I don’t know why. I know that after that I got fired, my girlfriend left me. And I followed the path of my new disturbing little kink. 

And it has landed me in prison.