To tell you the truth, until my late teen years I always believed girls pooped glittery turds without any chemical help, so you can imagine my disappointment when it turned out their bowels produced regular brown turds. For years I hadn’t sought the company of women. An inexplicable fear gripped me. I felt that every time a woman dropped an ass-brownie in the toilet, my once-colorful childhood became more gray and less.

But thanks to the Japanese scientists who created the glitter poop pill, this is a problem of the past. Now you can order these capsules from China surprisingly cheap.

The shipping is a bit slow, but at least it’s free, and when the pills arrive I just need to figure out how to feed them to my wife. I can’t just give her the pills directly —most girls would get offended if you want to change the color of their excrement. It’s a relationship thing. But then a great idea strikes me: I hide one of the pills in her sandwich, between the cheese and the pickles. I grin like an idiot while I watch her eating the stuff.

“What are you so happy about?” she asks, but I just shake my head.

Half an hour later she begins to complain about stomach pain. An hour later her body temperature begins to rise.

I pace back and forth with a worried look on my face. Cracking my fingers, I try to convince her not to go to the doctor. If she finds out that I poisoned her with a glitter poop pill, she will surely divorce me. I make some chamomile tea, but she can’t swallow it: A strange greenish yellow foam is leaking out of her mouth. Her face burns red, and she’s shaking like an epileptic.

“Call the...ambulance,” she begs, but I know I can’t do that.

I grab the phone and pretend to dial the ambulance and tell her they will arrive soon. An hour later she’s not responding to anything I say. I grab her arm and try to feel her pulse. I almost faint when I realize that my wife is dead.

This is when I decide that I’m going to give negative feedback to the Chinese eBay seller who sold the pills to me. But then a strange, sweet smell crawls into my nose. It’s like a mixture of candy-floss, a scented eraser and lacquer. I realize where it is coming from.

Slowly, I take the trousers off my wife’s dead body. When I remove the panties, my jaw drops. Before she died, she shit herself. Her stool isn’t brown or black —it’s like glittery nail polish. But no, no, it’s not quite like that. The turd is like shiny resin, a pearly little crystal-boat, shivery happiness-membrane, the ginger-ale-foam of the moonrocks. It’s like a drowning heaven in the rainbow-sea, the glory of dragonfly wings and the beauty of quartz mines. The sight almost dazes me.

This is the moment when I decide I’m going to give the Chinese seller three stars on eBay. Yes, his product killed my wife, that’s true, but her excrement did turn into magical glittery poo. As I’m watching my woman’s enthralling turd, the tiny shining parts in her shit seem familiar to me.

“No... This can’t be...” I stutter.

I run to the computer and search for images of galaxies. According to a picture, my wife’s excrement looks exactly like the Small Magellanic Cloud, a dwarf galaxy near the Milky Way. Of course I’m not saying that my wife shitted out the Small Magellanic Cloud. I just say she pooped out a galaxy very much like it. I only wish she could see it.

She always wanted to be a mom, but look. Instead of a child she gave birth to a whole galaxy. Maybe if I would have given her more glitter poop pills, her rectum would have produced something even more grandiose. Not that the Small Magellanic Cloud isn’t enough, but maybe even the Large Magellanic Cloud could have slipped out of her anus, or the whole local galaxy group. I feel lucky —not many men can say that whole galaxies are coming out of their wives’ assholes.

Another thought pops into my head, and it makes me dizzy. I have to sit down. Maybe... Maybe our whole world, our whole universe was born this way. The man we call God ordered glitter poop pills from Chinese eBay, gave them to his wife, and out came the Big Bang.

“I... I became God!” I tell the candy-floss-smelling room.

According to our knowledge, the Small Magellanic Cloud is deserted, but I can imagine there is some form of life in my wife’s pooped-out galaxy. If not, there will be. Life soon finds a way, and living forms will populate my wife’s stool. I will be the God of those creatures. All I have to do is to wait, let my wife’s corpse lie in the shit until the end of the world. A hard but noble task, and I’m mature enough to do it.

All I need to do is to figure out how many stars I should give the Chinese eBay seller who killed my wife.

If my theory is true, then God, the one and only, who created our universe, also gave feedback to the glitter poop pill seller. Maybe his rating will give me some guidance. So I go to eBay and there it is. I was right! The very first feedback on the seller’s profile was left by none other than the Almighty God. This is what he wrote: The product is not what I expected. It killed my wife, but at least her poop was sparkling. The packing was okay, but shipping was a bit slow and there wasn’t anything on the box that warned me that from this pill a whole universe will be born, and life, the highest form of physical creation, will come into being.

He gave three stars. Whatever.

I decide I’m going to be a better and more forgiving God than this fellow. A good and powerful superior power, just like the people always hoped for. So I give the seller four stars.

About the Author:
Zoltán Komor was born on June 14, 1986 and lives in Nyiregyhaza, Hungary. He writes surreal short stories, and his work has been published in literary magazines such as Horror, Sleaze and Trash, Drabblecast, The Phantom Drift, Gone Lawn, Bizarro Central, Bizarrocast, Thrice Fiction Magazine, The Missing Slate, The Gap-Toothed Madness, Wilderness House Literary Review, Kafka Review, etc. His first book in English, titled Flamingos in the Ashtray: 25 Bizarro Short Stories, was released by Burning Bulb Publishing in 2014. His second book in English, Tumour-djinn, was released by MorbidbookS in the same year, and his third collection, Turd Mummy, was released by StrangeHouse Books in 2016. His latest novel, The Radiator Boy and The Holly Country, was published by Potter's Grove Press in 2021.

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