“Former President Donald Trump will participate in a CNN presidential town hall next week in New Hampshire, the network announced Monday.” – CNN, 5/1/23

The other day, some classmates and I were playing in the school parking lot, behind the gymnasium. We’d snuck out during lunch period, and I followed along because I wanted to be cool. I’d heard that Brenda had stolen a cigarette from her dead aunt’s bedroom, and I thought it would be rather un-loser of me to hang out with the bad kids for a change. 

But when we got back there, there was no cigarette. No matches. No spray paint or other mischief-making paraphernalia. Instead we played a game of Truth or Dare. And me, wanting to eschew my label of “The Dorkenstein Monster,” I decided to go with Dare. Now, I can’t tell if they already had it with them, or if it was just total happenstance, but just as it was my turn to go, Todd found a large piece of oddly fresh dog poop laying on the asphalt, warming in the sun.

“Alright, nerd. I dare you to eat this shit,” said Todd.

I took a breath. “Fuck,” I thought. I took another breath, which in retrospect was a mistake, because the fecal odor wafted in even thicker and heavier. 

“Psshhh!” I said, acting tough, like Ben Shapiro. “Easy-peasy,” I said, hating my decision to follow these jackasses out here. The shit smelled bad, but I wanted to be popular even worse.

Todd handed me the turd. Somehow solid, somehow liquid, it oozed through my fingers just so. Like a fresh piece of burrata. Except from a dog’s asshole. This was going to suck big time. 

“Let’s go, Dorkenstein!” yelled Todd.

I looked down at the brown mushy fate my longing to be loved had sealed. “Fuck around and find out,” as the kids say. I was at the “finding out” part, although with a lot more canine intestinal bacteria than could have been predicted. 

“Screw it,” I thought to myself, and dove in for a big bite.

It’s just brownie batter, it’s just brownie batter, it’s just brownie batter, it’s just brownie batter, it’s just brownie batter, it’s just brownie batter, it’s just brownie batter, I screamed inside my own head as the excrement tumbled and rolled across my tongue, sticking to the roof of my mouth.

It’s just brownie batter, it’s just brownie batter, it’s just brownie ba-

My self-monologued cry of bravery was cut short when I vomited. And I vomited good. Explosive brown, then yellow, all over myself and the pavement below. Gagging and choking, dry heaving, retching from the bottom of my being. And then I vomited all over Todd, which at least got him to stop laughing. But it also made him punch me right in the face, which really friggin’ hurt. Blood started dripping down from my lacerated eyebrow and mixing on the ground with the dog stool and puke puddle.

Dog poop. Vomit. And blood. Is this what it takes to make friends?

What do I have to do to get these assholes to like me, I wondered to myself. Take another bite? No, fuck that. I’m not just going back for more. I’m going to finish the entire piece of shit.

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