Upon entering his front door George shat himself. The shit was liquidy and smelled like cheese.

“Gross,” he said, and proceeded to do so again. His stomach gave a rumbling moan and the shit spilled out of his obese body again.

“I gotta piss really bad,” George said to his wife.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing his fat ass and dragging him into the bathroom. As he walked he ripped another one of the 800 hole-in-the-wall shits that lined his intestines.

“Hello?” it said. It was a family of little boys that knocked on his door, asking if he wanted to buy some dirt.

“Ah fuck it, I will!” he said and proceeded to shit up a storm.

It exploded out of his ass like a spring, smashing his hands and the monitor he had for the sale. It was a huge explosion. George fell to the ground and his wife dropped her shopping bags, covered her eyes and screamed.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” George said, “It’s the worst shit I have ever done.”

He thought for a second. “Yeah, it was actually pretty good. Maybe I will buy some now.”

George spent the rest of the day hitting the dumpster while he waited for the delivery truck to arrive. He would shit his guts out all over himself and the dumpster. He eventually fell asleep and took a shit in his bed.

Another day, another shit filled day. George shat in his hands, in his chair, on the coffee table and all over himself. He shit in his pants and on his hands. His hands had turned purple.

Finally, he tried to shit on the counter and almost died.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, staring at the blood running down his face. “It hurts. I need help.”

He grabbed his pillow and covered his face and legs. The pain was unbearable.

“Oh god,” he said. “This has to stop.”

He lifted his arm and unleashed a big load on the counter. “How am I supposed to get rid of this?” he said, wiping his back.

After he cleaned himself up he turned around and shat on the floor. It was like the bathroom had never been cleaned. He tried to find more toilets to shit in, but he never found any.

George got on the phone and called the Piss Addict hotline. The Piss Addict heard his story and said, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The Piss Addict stood by a roadside at a red light when George’s car pulled up. The Piss Addict hopped in and drove the confused truck driver to a dingy motel. “There you go,” she said. “You need to rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Thank you so much,” he said. “I couldn’t believe it when the guy actually sold me something for my shit.”

“I’m sure it was a relief,” she said, “But this is the kind of thing that you do for people you like.”

“But not everyone likes me,” George said.

“Well,” she said, “Who’s next?”

George said nothing. He wiped his ass and got out of the Piss Addict’s car. He walked to the front desk. “I need a room.”

The receptionist asked, “Do you have any diseases?”

“Not in the sense that you’re thinking,” George said, “Please let me check in and I will be out of your hair in no time.”

The Piss Addict sat in her car and waited. Eventually, George came out of the room, smiled, thanked her and got in his car.

“You didn’t like me, did you?” George asked.

“I thought you had a way with people,” she said. “But I should have known. You have no heart.”

“You have a heart,” he said. “What do you call the animal in your stomach that doesn’t stop shitting?”

“It’s called an ass,” she said. “And yes, that’s what I call it.”

George laughed, picked up a book and said, “And to think, I thought I was the only human being on the face of the earth that shits on everything.”

“It’s a sad story,” she said.

“It could be worse,” George said, “I could have a family.”