The Inside Poop of the Rich and Famous
Mr. Richard (Rich) Twit, the world’s wealthiest man, arose after a long and sleepless night. Several of his zillion dollar mergers were not going well. Mrs. Twit had a frightful headache and there had been no sex for Mr. Twit for some weeks now. The government was threatening yet another suit to bust up Mr. Twit’s many, many conglomerates.
Mr. Twit slogged into his world-famous bathroom that had been featured seven times in Architectural Digest to relieve himself and as he walked across the warm marble, heated to blood temperature, he stubbed his big toe on a gold door stop. He screamed curses and twelve servants and three body guards galloped to his aid.
Meanwhile, the world’s poorest man, Mr. Henry (Happy) Twit, got up in his grass hut in Tahiti and smiled at his wife. They had made love all night long to the sounds of the crashing surf. Happy Twit stood in the doorway of his grass hut and looked out the beautiful blue Pacific. His seven children were already up, picking fruit for breakfast. Happy Twit had six cents to his name.
Happy Twit walked along the sandy beach and beside an old palm tree spent a pleasant five minutes taking care of his personal duties.
Meanwhile the world’s richest man sat on his throne, praying that he could relieve himself. What added to his agitation was the south wall of his 7,000 square foot bathroom. That wall was a giant, fifty-five million dollar flat screen TV and on it Rich Twit had programmed a peaceful seascape of the Pacific with big white fluffy clouds.
Instead of a seascape, the ocean looked like the whirling innards of a spin-dry washing machine. Not good for the relaxation that the doctors said Rich Twit needed so he could empty his bowels.
Rich Twit screamed for electricians and computer programmers and video engineers. Within seven hours they found that a nine cent transistor had been damaged when the world’s richest man had struck the wall with his fist the previous day because he was frustrated that the world’s most powerful laxatives gave him minimal relief.
Meanwhile, the world’s poorest man was swimming and laughing with his children and grandchildren when a helicopter landed.
Out of the helicopter appeared a FedEx Delivery Man. He presented the world’s poorest man with a box, the size of a phone booth.
Happy Twit opened the box and found a dozen computers and a gadget that made electricity to run them. There was also a satellite radio and some other things to access the internet.
These were all gifts from Twit Enterprises. The richest man in the world had researched his genealogy (a note said) and discovered that he had some distant relatives in Tahiti. The gifts were so Happy Twit and his children could live better lives.
Happy Twit was delighted.
Here is what he did: He used the computers for boat anchors. He used the telephone equipment for a counter weight on a rope so his kids could have a good swing. That left the box. From that he made a wonderful little covered outhouse so he could keep dry during the rains and still watch the ocean playing tag with itself.
The following morning, the world’s poorest man walked to his new outhouse.
Half way around the world, a team of surgeons wheeled the world’s richest man into an operating theater, located in the world-famous, billion dollar Twit International Hospital, so they could split him open and start working on his impacted bowels.
Click one of the above to see some of my work.
You can buy one of my novels here. If you
can't afford it, write me a funny
note and I'll send you a PDF
of the novel.
Rather than beg one million people to donate a dollar each, I'd like one billionaire (or two or even three) to simply give me a million buck$. You know who you are.