Hooper

My story:Without Tears

I eat a lot of weird shit. Dogs do that. But I don't eat dog shit, I'm not your typical shit-eating hound with shit for brains. Don't get me wrong, I'll sniff ass with the best of them, but when it comes to coprophagia, I leave that to the amateurs. My palate is as varied as that of a French food critic and we both hate to bathe, my brother.

Soap is one of my favorites, that's why I keep going back to it. But if you're going to eat at the bar, let me warn you; it ain't for amateurs. I learned the hard way. The first time I came upon a choice piece of white manna, in my rapture, in my ecstasy, I gulped it down whole. My young stomach couldn't take it. I wretched and heaved all day, but all I could bring up was some clear bile. Finally, with a huge effort, I managed to disengorge the beast at my masters feet. The word COAST could plainly be seen on the barely used bar. Like an ingrate, she threw this wonderful morsel in the trash, and brought the bag out to that locked container that appeared shortly after I arrived here.

I thought I'd learned my lesson. The next bar I got I carefully nibbled all along the edges to ease its way through my intestines. But filled with exitement, I rushed the job, and later hacked up a nice slippery piece with IRISH SPRING still visible, surrounded by stippling like a pie crust.

Now I've mastered the technique. Here, as you can see, I got interrupted, my loss, but your gain. You see what to do; eat it from the center out, front teeth only, slowly, no rush here. Enjoy it going down. I know it's hard to resist that one big gulp, but believe me, it's worth it.

Over on the right, there's a list of other things I've eaten, some have stayed down, some haven't, but what's the use of living if you don't take risks. So forget the turd, my friend. Open up your imagination and explore the pantry, peruse the bathroom, and root out the trash. You won't regret it.

(Hooper RIP 7/24/2007)