Well look at you, stuffing your shelves with all that toilet paper. Bet you thought you were gonna have yourself a nice shit, relax in your bathroom on your own porcelain throne. Guess again, numb nuts, because I bought your toilet.
And not just your toilet—not by a long shot. I bought every single solitary toilet in the greater Puget Sound region. Not so pleased with your so-called survival skills now, huh?
I’ll bet you’re thinking to yourself, “No way … no way he bought all the toilets in Seattle.” Well I did. You all thought you were so fucking special and clever rushing into the store at 6 a.m., standing in multi-hour-long lines at Costco just to score yourself a few more rolls of sweet, white gold, but who’s the real winner now? I took all the time you devoted to Quilted Northern-collecting to track down every homeowner, every landlord, every apartment manager, and every furniture and hardware store that had and/or sold toilets in the city, and I paid exorbitant amounts of money to ensure that I have the only civilized place to shit in the goddamn county.
It’s not like I’m going to do anything with them either. These aren’t going to the elderly, the homeless, or children in need. This isn’t even part of some plan to make money off of your self-important need to shit til kingdom come. I’m probably just going to go dump them in the river after this.
All I want is for you to sit there, amongst your magnificent eggshell hued spools, desperately keeping yourself from shitting yourself while remembering that I’m better than you. It doesn’t matter if I have something to wipe my ass with, but that I have a place to wipe my ass at all. Wipe yourselves out with that, motherfuckers.
