Dump Issues

Despite spending most of your time in a cubicle, drones have a few things going for them. There’s the first time you order a book that someone other than your parents pays for. If that’s not your thing, then there’s the first time you go enjoying activities at a beach on company dime. There are a host of great things; the first time you get a pay check, the first time you go get promoted, the first time you get tissue rations…

The first time you get WHAT??!

Yep, yep, that is correct. Tissue. The type you wipe your behind with, assuming you wipe. These things are rationed, apparently, meaning at some point, if your supply runs out, you’re going to have a really interesting conversation with an officemate about crap.

“Hey,” you’d say, “I need to go do take a dump, and I’ve already maxed out my crap supplies for the month, would you mind…”

And of course they would mind. I don’t know if this generally rings true, but when I do need to go, I kind of like tissue. Tissue is my friend. Tissue’s like a symbol of our collective genius to address humanity’s needs, except that it’s essentially a wad of tree you wipe your behind with. Assuming you wipe.

But the point is, tissue rocks. Your colleague will probably tell you to mind your own crap. “Hey,” he’d tell you, “Mind your own crap. I need to protect my stock, I’m having diarrhea.”

These are the kinds of quality things brought to light by tissue rations. Bowel movements of people who are not you, unique uses of recycled paper, all that crap. These things will reside somewhere in your hippocampus, where it will run on a loop, not allowing you to think about anything else.

”Diarrhea,” the part of your brain that allows you to make memories says. “Oh shove it,” you say to it, all the while knowing that sooner or later, the crap always wins.