The Great Overly-dramatic American Toilet-lords

The Great Overly-dramatic American Toilet-lords

By Christopher Parisi For some reason, the hottest commodity in the Coronapocalypse wasn’t food nor medicine, but toilet paper. That is how they came to power. The Great Overly-dramatic American Toilet-lords. The GOATs ruled what was once America in varying styles.

Lord Booty, as he was known, sat on his throne of TP and accepted commoners to visit him and make requests. A man in a tattered suit kneeled down in the throne room. “Please, your bootiness, my family has nothing. Please spare us some TP.” He begged. Lord Booty squinted at the man, and stood from his throne.

“I know you. You were my boss before the Coronapocalypse. You put me on a zero hour schedule without pay, and I wasn’t fired so I couldn’t collect unemployment.” Lord booty answered.

“I’m sorry your cleanliness, it was company policy to screw over employees!” The man pleaded.

“Silence!” Lord booty bellowed. “You destroyed me, and now you grovel before me, ass unwiped? Get out of my sight.” Lord Booty added, pointing his holy plunger towards the door. The man rose to his feet, and moped out of the throne room. Lord booty sat upon his unstained white throne.

“Your heinieness.” A servant whined. “Why didn’t you execute him for his insolence?”

“That’s a little dark, dude, this is a comedy” Lord Booty replied.

“What’s a comedy, my lord?” inquired the servant

“Silence fool, only I’m allowed to break the fourth wall” Declared Lord Booty with a chuckle and a wink.

Lord booty wielded a massive Warhammer in the shape of a plunger. It was as much art as weaponry. The handle was made of porcelain and the end was gold encrusted with gems. Melee weapons had become very popular in what was once Washington DC, since laws prohibiting fire arms were passed in abundance in the beginning phases of the Coronapocalypse. Lord booty wore a tuxedo made entirely of toilet paper, to show everyone in the new world that he was pinnacle of wealth. And he was. Women wanted him for his toilet paper. Men also wanted him for his toilet paper. It turned out people were willing to do some pretty dirty things when their asses are dirty. But this short story is PG-13 so we’re going to leave it at that.

There was a massive, loud pounding on Lord Booty’s door, and since the door was made of stacked toilet paper, it just fell down. At the Door was none other than one of the other GOATs, Sir Bertrude Sandpaper! Sir Bernard Sandpaper was a very old man. Nobody knows exactly how old, but he’s definitely seen some shit (pun intended).

“Lord Booty, I have come to redistribute your toilet paper to the people! No man needs a million packages of Charmin Ultrasoft!”

Sandpaper shouted, charging into the room. “Demoseptic Soapalism will prevail!”

“Your precious Demoseptic Soapalism is just thinly veiled communal toiletism!” Lord Booty mocked. “Communal toiletism has failed in every septic system it has been implemented in.”

“Communal toiletism and Demoseptic Soapalism are not mutually inclusive.” Sandpaper sighed, almost as if he’s explained this exact concept hundreds of times. “Communal toiletism is an eco-septic policy

that seeks to merge everyone’s individual septic tank into one great super septic tank. Demoseptic Soapalism is simply the guarantee of universal toilet paper for all!” The end of Sandpaper’s brief speech was met with cheers from his supporters.

Sir Bertrude Sandpaper, unironically equipped with a hammer and sickle, charged towards lord booty! Since sandpaper was so unfathomably old, his charge was more of a walker assisted crawl, but he had the spirit of a knight in shining armor! Booty came down on Sandpaper with his massive plunger, but Sandpaper caught it in his sickle, who then swung his hammer around knocked Lord Booty out cold. The room was silent for a brief moment before it erupted into cheers from both the Sandpaper supporters and Lord Booty’s former servants.

Just a few blocks down, one of the other GOATs, The Don was sitting in his mountain of TP, stroking his hairless cat. The Don was no ordinary goat, as he was the former president of the United States. The United States of course, was no more. The Don, in addition to being incredibly wealthy, had an affinity for toilet paper for some strange reason, so he retained his wealth into the Coronapocalypse. Today was no ordinary day for the Don. This was the day of his daughter’s fashion debut. His daughter, Ivanna belikedaddy was about to show off a new line of clothing made entirely of toilet paper for the Wasteland’s richest to flaunt their wealth.

As is tradition for the day of his daughter’s fashion debut, the Don was offering favors to his constituents. One of those constituents, The Don’s son in law, Roofus entered his office. “You come to me on this day. A special day. A great day. The best day. You want a favor? Of course you want a favor. I’ll do you a favor. Nobody does favors better than me.” The Don rambled. The Don was the only GOAT who used an

excess of run on sentences, and nobody is sure why it didn’t impede his rise to power.

“Yeah dad, I –” Roofus started to say “Please, call me daddy.” The Don interrupted, and continued stroking his cat.

“Daddy…” Roofus continued awkwardly. “I need a small loan of a million rolls. I want to chop down a forest for more toilet paper.” The Don’s Orange skin flared to red hearing the amount, and back to a cool orange, realizing the potential profit.

“Of course son. Make it happen!” The Don replied joyfully.

The last of the GOATs was none other than an actual goat! Nobody is certain how the grazing, low intelligence animal rose to power. Many scholars akin his rise to power to that of the last United States president. The goat stood in his state room, munching on precious toilet paper while conversing with one of his subordinates. “baahhh.” Said the goat.

“Slaughter them all!? Are you certain your grassiness? The subordinate questioned. “bah.” Replied the goat, no remorse in his cold horizontal eyes.

“The children too. I understand…” answered the subordinate, tears in his eyes.