I found myself standing in a bathroom stall pissing on the edge of the seat; summoned back 
to reality by the sounds of screaming and sirens. Whether it was the cops, paramedics or 
firefighters I’m still not sure. Strangely enough this was the dirtiest and smelliest 
McDonald’s bathroom I’d ever been in—and an unusually powerful pressure was 
building inside my stomach. I couldn’t tell if it was just gas or some 
anxiety ball swelling up about to explode. The noise was refracted 
against wet tiles and yellowing walls, and permeated like a wave 
through my brain. I wasn’t pissing anymore, so I carefully 
zipped up and noticed the mess I’d made all over the 
toilet. It’s hard to feel bad about it though—my 
lifestyle provides jobs. Somebody has to 
clean the highways and wipe up piss. 
Not everybody can be a goddamn 
cop or a computer 
programmer. 

So 
I washed 
up, dried off, 
cruised out and 
slid down the stairs. 
My stomach still hurt. In 
fact, when I got down to the foyer 
area of McD’s, the pressure was oscillating 
from bad to worse and I almost threw up into one of 
those tacky plastic plants. People giving me evil eyes—I 
checked to see if I was wearing a turban without knowing it—I 
wasn't. Their eyes were engorged, with licorice red veins pulsating 
in a sick harmony; bleeding ectoplasm and spitting while they spoke. Mouths 
dripping saliva and processed food. I could see that they were all monsters—wearing 
sleazy suits and sporting hideous grins. Noticed the outline of a knife in a jacket pocket. 
Horrible laughter rang out in slow motion as I fled from that awful place, clutching my stomach 
so hard that my fingers started to shake. I could feel the veins in my hands, and wetness around my 
legs was sweating like a madman; wasn’t sure if I’d pissed my pants or not.

Outside wasn’t any better. The ringing was even louder and my 
intestines felt as though they were swelling; it felt like each 
individual vein was going to pop. It seemed like the buildings were 
rotting from the asphalt up. Crude asbestos monoliths loomed above me 
and they pulsated and bled out people. I stumbled past beautiful girls 
and dodged a taxi cab; in the end I would’ve almost preferred the fate of 
a quick hit-n-run. There was a crowd of brown people, most likely middle-easterners, 
protesting something or other. Robes and large signs equating a six-sided star to a swastika; 
then felt their eyes on me like transparent spider legs. Nausea ensued; I always hated spiders.

So I ran, through the crowd, into the sweaty gang of cackling beasts. 
And their inhumanity made my own stick out like a circumcised clitoris. 
Suddenly they turned on me, and I felt a pop inside my guts. You would 
not have believed this if you had been there yourself. The explosion 
felt like a thousand demons escaping from inside me; some of them slipped 
out though my ass, others through my eyes ears and mouth. They erupted 
in the form of intestinal parts, vital organs (such as the kidney and liver), 
and blood. The pain of having my still beating heart forced out of my own 
asshole was the worst. I grasped whatever guts I could, trying to force 
them back into my body through any applicable orifice; my attempts were 
futile. I scrambled to pick up my brain matter, and suddenly felt my 
bones begin to leave my body. My ribcage was the first to go, tearing 
through my torso like a chainsaw. And then my body, or soul (I guess), 
fell limp onto the floor. I could still hear the sirens and the screaming, 
but luckily I couldn’t feel the pressure anymore. I was just too numb. 

All that the explosion left behind was a large crater, and the corpses of my victims.