Thursday, September 29, 2011


By Danger Slater

This is not my shit.

Sure, it looks like my shit. It’s got the same color and a similar gradient. And it came out of my ass, all right. I’m not arguing that.

But this is not my shit. It’s an imposter.


“It certainly smells like yours,” says my wife, whom I have called into the bathroom.

“Very funny,” I say. “Joke all you want, but do you know what this means?”

“You need more fiber?”

“When someone sees their own doppelganger, it’s an omen. A bad omen.”

“Honey,” she says, “this isn’t your doppelganger. It’s a pile of shit.”


“What you’re saying is impossible. You can’t shit someone else’s shit.”


“God, Steve,” she turns to the door. “It’s disgusting. No.”

I want to grab her. I want to hold her there and force her to look in the bowl. To make her see. To make her realize. But it’s no use.

So I let her go.


“So you’re saying your doppelganger shit in your toilet?” Eddie says.

“No. How many times do I have to go over this? My shit’s doppelganger came out of my ass.”

“Is that even a thing?” asks Rex.

“Apparently,” Eddie goes. They’re both laughing at me.

I’m getting frustrated now. “Look, I didn’t bring it up so you guys could make fun of me.”

“Oh relax. We’re just playing,” says Eddie. “Here, I’ll get the next round. Waitress…”

A young redhead steps up to the table.

“Can I get another beer, and – Steve, what are you having?”


“And a whiskey?”

The redhead snaps her gum and turns away.

“Oh wait, miss…” Eddie calls after her.

She stops.

“Could you make his a double?”

Rex nearly spits up from laughing so hard.

“Fucking hilarious,” I growl, getting up.

“Oh c’mon, man. Don’t leave,” Eddie says, still giggling.

“I’ve gotta take a piss, if that’s all right with you.”

“By all means,” says Eddie.

“Just let us know if you got an extra dick down there or something,” Rex adds.

I’ve never really noticed it before, but my friends are kind of douchebags.



That’s what the newspaper article taped above the urinal is headlined. I’m reading it. Pissing. Kind of rocking on my feet a bit. I guess I’m a little drunk. Oh well. It’s been a weird day, and like Eddie said, I need to relax.

A guy pushes his way through the swinging door and steps up to the urinal next to me. He unbuttons his jacket, throws his tie over his shoulder and unzips his fly. The sound of water splattering against porcelain, and a massive sigh of relief. “Oh thank God,” he goes.

I keep my eyes straight ahead. Staring at that article. But I know he’s looking at me. I can feel it. Like hot knives his gaze burns into the side of my head.

“Did you ever have to go so bad that you can hardly take it?” he finally says.

“Huh? Oh…um…no.”

“Sometimes I can’t even believe my body can hold all that pee. I wonder where it’s all coming from. How is it possible? But then I realize how complex the human body is. There’s a lot going on underneath our skin. Things we’ll never understand. There could be whole cities, whole civilizations, whole universes living inside us.”

I don’t respond.

He lets out a satisfied moan as he drips dry. He then zips up his pants and washes his hands. I’m still standing at the urinal, facing the wall, even though I’m done.

“Just hang in there, Steve,” the mysterious stranger says.

A wave of terror shoots up my spine and I almost squish my own dick right there in my hands. How did he know my name?

Slowly I turn and face the man. He’s wearing a pair of black-framed glasses and he has a thick, bushy moustache; he’s got a conspicuous mole on his cheek and his hair is all slicked back. But still, his identity is unmistakable.

He is me.

I try and talk but no words come out. I’m in shock. Other Steve just smiles.

“Like I said, there are things we’ll never understand. But that’s okay. It’s these kind of things that keep us from drowning. Otherwise it’d just be the same-old shit, day after day. And that’s no way to live. Aren’t I right, buddy?”

I feel a knot forming in my gut. Something terrible, twisting inside me. Working its way through my intestines like a sandpaper snake. Oh man. This is going to be one for the record books. I look to the toilet stall, then back to Other Steve.

He winks and nods okay.

“Thank you,” is all I can manage to say before I disappear behind the partition and noisily proceed to shit my brains out.


BIO: Danger_Slater is the world's most flammable writer! He enjoys long walks on beached whales and candlelit babies! He writes with a lot of exclamation points! His short fiction can be found in various anthologies and on the internets and debut novel is called LOVE ME, which it's available through the Jersey Devil Press! For links to his work and all things dangerous. visit his website:

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