The Groundskeeper

I never go to cemeteries. Nobody in my family can afford a casket. Besides that, they depress me. But tonight I had no choice. I'd eaten like a king at dinner - three servings of chicken curry and countless orders of rice. And my gluttony was now straining against my quivering sphincter like hot magma as I sped down the secluded backroad that led to my home.  I knew I would never hold it all the way home and I'd be damned if I was going to shit my pants.

I whipped my car off the road at the very next turn and crashed through the gates of the local cemetery. Without even turning off the engine I leapt from the car and took off at a trot down the rows of graves, my hands clamping my buttcheeks together. I finally found a private area and dropped my pants.

No sooner did I take a seat than my bowels loosened with the fury of a rushing river. Gallons upon gallons of spicy diarrhea gushed from my butthole, spewing down the back of the headstone and splattering against the ground. It went on and on, as I whined and whimpered, praying that it would end soon. Alas, my prayers fell upon the deaf ears of a cruel God. My ass continued to spray as I bent down and grabbed my ankles, and then finally screamed out in furious agony.

"GraAAAaaaaAAAGHGGHghhh!" I screamed. "grrrraaaaaaaAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH!"

Every muscle in my body strained. My ears began to buzz. My arms and legs tingled with numbness.

My world went black - my corporal body dissolved into an empty void with nothing but flecks of light for company. The flecks danced and twirled in the darkness and then began to merge, forming quarks and then atoms. Atoms bounced and bonded, snapping together in glorious bursts of light. Molecules formed elements, turning, spinning, joining and stretching. Eaons and eaons passed as the molecules twisted and turned, testing new formations with blind curiosity. Something clicked - the molecules aligned and began to form cells. Time sped up as cells split and multiplied around me. My eyes reformed in the darkness. My heart began to pound as I slid down a dark canal, towards a harsh portal of light, screaming the triumphant cry of birth. Faster! Faster! And then-

It was done. The final chunks of dookie spootered out, plopping sadly to join their comrades on the cold ground behind the headstone. My head was spinning, my heart was still pounding. I scooped up a handful of moist loam from the ground to wipe my ass (not recommended, by the way) and pulled up my pants.

I seemed to have awakened into a new world. The moon was gone. Mist had settled over the graveyard. Crows cawed in the distance. How long had I been shitting? My watch was fogged over. Then I heard a sound. Someone was shuffling across the cemetery. It took me a while to track him down, and when I finally honed in on the stranger's form staggering in the mist, I was unable to make out any of his features. He was nothing more than a black shadow with a top hat and long, flowing coat. He popped and groaned as he moved, like a rusty marionette.

I stood transfixed, watching his tedious progress across the graveyard. Everything about him was pure, inky blackness. His clothes shifted and shimmered, like a tapestry cut wholecloth from the void of space. He stumbled once and reached out to steady himself, his thin wrist shooting out from his sleeve to take hold on a nearby headstone. Even his skin was pitch black.

"Of course!" I thought, taking note of the darkness of his skin. He must be the groundskeeper! I decided to be polite and give him a head's up about the huge mess he needed to clean. I cupped my hands to my mouth and shouted.

"Hey!"

The man stopped shuffling, but he did not speak or acknowledge my presence at all. I persisted.

"Someone took a shit on this headstone! Come clean it up!"

The man resumed his shuffling, so I picked up a rock and threw it. I'm very good at throwing rocks. I hit him in the head without even trying. He turned and raised an accusing finger to point at me, speaking in a raspy moan of a voice.

"Whooooo daaAAAAarrreess to diissstruuuurb my waaaAAAaaanderings?"

I pointed an accusing finger at the shitty headstone.

"Coooommmeeee dooOOOOoo your jooOOOOooobbb!"

He took a step towards me. I realized that something was deeply wrong here. The Groundskeeper's body was still a shroud of black, but his eyes burned red in his skull like hot coals. He was probably high on meth. I took a step back and then turned to run for the cemetery gate and the safety of my car. I made it five steps before I noticed his shadowy outline waiting just inside the gate. There was no mistaking those glowing red eyes.

I took a step backwards. He took two steps forward. I stepped back again. My foot brushed against the edge of a hole. I glanced behind me: it was an open grave! I turned back around. The Groundskeeper was only feet away, reaching out at my throat with one spectral hand.

I stumbled backwards into the hole, hitting the ground with a thud. I tried to stand, but my ankle popped and sent a surge of pain skittering up my leg. The Groundskeeper peered over the edge with a shovel in hand, his smile stark white against the blackness of his face. He turned away. A shovelful of dirt flew through the air, hitting me square in the face. My eyes welled up with tears as I tried to blink the dirt away. Another shovelful flew down into my open mouth.

I coughed and spat. I turned away and began clawing at the sides of the grave. Chunks of soil came off in my hands. It was useless. More dirt came flying. Shovelful after shovelful, relentlessly soaring through the air. Soon I was covered up to my waist, and then my chest. It was all I could do to keep breathing, to keep spitting the dirt out of my mouth, to claw myself a few inches higher.

Finally, the Groundskeeper paused. He peered over the edge of the grave one last time, obviously satisfied with his work. I had given up fighting long ago - I had allowed my arms to droop and now they were covered in tightly packed soil. Only my head remained exposed. The Groundskeeper turned away.

Is that it? I wondered.

And then I heard it: the tell-tale sound of someone unfastening their belt buckle. I looked up. There was a solid black ass, so black it defied vision, so black it stood in stark contrast to the moonless sky, dangling over the edge of the grave. I struggled and squirmed to no avail. The soil had solidified like concrete. There was a loud, earthshaking BRRRAAAAPPPP as the Groundskeeper let loose with a rancid fart. Dirt scattered in the air. My cheeks flapped in the wind. Tears whipped down my face until my eyes ran dry.

Once, when I was seventeen, my friends and I found an abandoned trailer in the woods. I went inside on a dare. The windows had been shattered long ago. Dead leaves carpeted the floor, rotting in three days of midwinter rain. The carpet and walls were cloaked in mildew. The stench of decay hung in the air. It was dark inside, and as I wandered down the hallway, I felt something soft underfoot. It was too late to stop myself. I brought my foot down on a soggy mass of rotting flesh - a long dead raccoon. It's bloated stomach burst open beneath my shoe. I don't remember the smell. I only remember waking up on the ground outside, gasping for air in the cold rain as my friends looked on in concern. Oh, how I only wished I could pass out now!

I don't know when the farting stopped. It seemed like I'd been choking and coughing for hours. But then my eyes cleared. I could hear nothing. I looked up, hoping to plan my escape. But the ass was still there!

The Groundskeeper's puckered butthole was pink against his inky black flesh. I watched as it widened and then disgorged a solid stream of soupy diarrhea. Time came to a halt - every detail of that scene is still etched in my mind. I'd thought I'd seen black before, but I was a fool. Even if I were to fly through space and dive directly into a black hole shortly before gouging my eyes out etc. etc., I doubt I should ever see anything as black as the Groundskeeper's poop. Slowly, ever so slowly, it flew through the air; a laser of pure feces, aimed square at my mouth. There was no escape, no survival. My fate was sealed - I was to drown in poop. I actually pooped a little bit myself at the thought of it.

The first drop splattered against my lip (ice cold) and then, suddenly, I found myself sitting bolt upright in my bed. My body was slick with cold sweat, but the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. It was all a dream!

"Well, not all of it," I thought ruefully, as I realized I was sitting in a puddle of cold diarrhea.