Poop Desperation Novels & Stories

So far, it seems to be everyone’s weak spot and it’s so damn easy to exploit. “You need to let me live too. And my friend. I will tell you then,” Lumpy still tries to negotiate. “Are you smoking dollar tree dog food? You must be the most delusional fucker I have ever met. Dude, you won’t be enjoying any life quality by the time I’m done with you. Trust me on this one, will you,” I grin at him. If there really is one thing I enjoy more than looking at my woman and baby, it’s watching the tears fill a grown man’s eyes. The desperation, fear, terror. All of those things, best if together, feel like I’m taking unlimited dosages of drugs and drowning in them.

This was not supposed to be happening to her and her people! She watched as a kid far across the dark room that gleamed by the only window far above on one side of the wall drank on the bowl of water that had bugs already decomposing it. She cringed at the sight making her shut her eyes tightly. There was no way she was ever going to forgive these monsters. A tear rolled down from her left eye. The smell of bacteria breaking down sweat on their body individually was purgent but worse was the ammonia smell of dehydrated urine they had to pass out on their positions to ease the pressure on their bladder.

Option A: Get a job at a fast-food restaurant constantly dealing with the unending stream of drive-thru orders that seem to multiply faster than rabbits. Option B: Be a babysitter and deal with toddlers from hell. Option C: Sell feet pics on Onlyf*ns. I stood there, contemplating my options. Option A seemed like a grueling, grease-filled nightmare. Option B, dealing with unruly toddlers, didn't sound much better. Then, there was Option C – selling feet pictures. It was an unusual idea, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I mean, I did have nice feet, right? I was now officially poor. Nonna was right about me spending too much money on unnecessary stuff like designer coffee, go

“Why did you do this? Why did you do this?” I chant but all I get is a giggle. “Do you see? Do you finally understand the lengths I’d go for you? Do you see how madly desperate I am to please you? All I ask you is one thing, munchkin, just one thing. And yet, you fail to do this one thing for me when I’m willing to burn the world down all for you.” My gaze meets his and all I see in his eyes is desperation. And just like his words, the look on his face confirms his desperation.

Just pain and fear and regret. This is desperation. This is what poverty drives you to. Suicide for money. Death for resources. The Rookeries claim another victim. Me.

He weakly reached out with his entirely shredded, actively bleeding right hand, desperately grasping the jagged edge of the tiny, broken plastic cup. He dipped the broken cup into the freezing raw sewage. He painfully dragged his completely ruined body ten agonizing feet across the sharp gravel, weakly dumping the microscopic amount of putrid sludge into the overflow drain. He crawled back. He scooped again. Hot, thick tears of absolute despair streamed down his heavily bruised face, actively mixing with the terrifying, highly toxic waste completely consuming his shattered soul.

And I could see the progress already, he had already asked me what I wanted, all I just needed to do now was to think of how I would compose my words and tell him what I needed. It would also be better if I just told him what I needed the money for, so he wouldn’t see me as a gold digger who was only interested in taking his money and spending it lavishly on useless things. But I doubt I would be able to tell him that I was sick. ************ Anna and I left my house to the mall and believe me when I say that I was really excited about shopping. While we were walking through an alley, I heard footsteps and immediately turned to look back.

How alive do we need to defeat death? We were in desolation, desperation, depression and in dire need of aid, a panacea to overcome this societal affliction. The vultures were familiar with our surroundings, preying and feeding on those corpse lying on the street. People who could not even attain the status of being buried but just left as ashes to decay on the path. Our crops had died, our fishes were gone, our money had no value… some people had turned cannibals, hunting for any flesh just to stay alive. Most of us had given up, this was the apocalypse which had been predicted thousands of years ago.

Being an acute leukemia, the white blood cells did not reproduce quickly and the disease occupied his entire system. The street is full of people who walk fast, perhaps with situations very different from mine. I no longer have situations. Well, he hadn't. Since I met the little boy who left me in my room, until now my days have been more complicated than in the last five years. In a few minutes I arrive at the apartment, I take off my stupid underpaid executive assistant clothes as soon as I close the door and put water to boil to make myself some tea. I shower slowly. I don't need the rush in my life, not anymore. "Despair is part of failure," someone said once. Desperation only makes you

Chloe lay on the bed with her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, or perhaps at somewhere beyond it. When she heard the door, she turned her head. Her gaunt face filled with shock when she saw me, and her eyes widened as though she were glaring. I sat on the only chair in the room and held out the container of chicken soup I'd brought. "This used to be your favorite. I didn't know how serious it was before I came. You can't eat now, can you?" Paraquat poisoning progressed far faster than most people understood. After their failed visit to my office, Derek's gambling debts had continued to snowball.