Jo and the Great Outdoors

Jo cursed herself again. Why had she done this to herself?

For some unfathomable reason she had decided to live this life as a fully functioning woman. Fully functioning. It was something she hadn’t done for maybe a hundred life times, if not more, and for the umpteenth time in the last 6 days her body was telling her, in excruciating detail, why this was a stupid reason.

She was both squatting down and hunched up over herself. The pain from the cramps was pure hell. She cursed all the Gods and Daemons she knew, evolution and Life himself. Whoever or whatever was responsible for this shitty design flaw had a lot to answer for.

Looking around there was no comfort to be found. She was shitting in the woods, plain and simple. It was absolutely ridiculous, the world she was living in was meant to be experiencing an enlightened societal age, that was why she had chosen it, yet people still went to the “great outdoors” to “get away from it all”. What the fuck was that all about? So, what you had a busy life and you worked more than 40 hours a week. This was no reason to debase yourself.

“Honey? Are you OK?”

That was Mark. The man in her life who she had agreed to “get away from it all” with for the weekend. She made the decision that she was going to kill him. Maybe too extreme? Her stomach cramped again. Maybe not. Whatever she did she wasn’t going to ever see him again after this weekend. Fuck Mark and his adventures in the “great outdoors”. Jo had lived through actual dark ages and post apocalyptical worlds where you had no option but to shit in the woods. A lot of people die of fucking dysentery that way.

“Give me a second” Her natural breeziness had completely left her voice and she made no attempt at recovering it.

She grabbed the toilet paper; how can you even call yourself a civilised race if you still cut down trees to use to wipe your bum? At least the world with the shells was a sustainable option.

Stupidly she looked down at what had exited her and was even more horrified; not at the thick slightly sandy brown mess that sat heaped between her legs; not even at the little splashes of urine which flecked her shoes. Her shock was due to her tampon string, which was dangling at such an angle that it hung directly below her anus, it was, quite clearly, covered in poo.

She made up her mind, killing Mark was not enough. She was going to come back to this world as an avenging angel and wipe it from existence.

Yep, it is what you thought it was