Slowsand.

Sighs masked as hearty shouts,

wand’rings marked as guided routes.

Yawns removed from concentration

feebly yearns for liberation.

A slow ascent upon a plane,

a crawling climb beneath the slain.

Labored breath intent on rest,

the rise and fall within the chest.

Thoughts just flitting here and there,

sparks igniting ends of hair.

Preparing speeches ne’er to raise

the spirits of the languid daze.

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April Stools.

As he yawned with the exhaustion of a man who slept too late to be waking up so early, he groaned out of bed and into the bathroom.  There was the smell of lavender, like someone had used his fancy liquid hand soap, but he was the only one in the house, and he had just woken up.  Perhaps it was leaking? He picked up the bottle, examined it, and set it down, scratching his head in bleary, apathetic confusion.  It was probably some stupid April Fool’s joke.  There was nothing wrong with the bottle, not a crack anywhere he could see.  He felt the familiar clench in his bowels, and knew it was time for the morning ritual.

Sighing, he sat down and began to take the children to the pool.  That is, he defecated.  Today’s experience was a pleasantly soft ordeal, sliding out without much strain.  He exhaled fully after holding his breath in from the initial release, feeling the cold tile beneath his feet, and feeling the cold seat slowly warm to the temperature of his rear.  As he felt the familiar emptiness within his stomach signaling the end of his time on the porcelain throne, he began to reach for the the toilet paper, but paused. The soon-to-be-soiled paper was coming from the bottom up, not from the top down.  Who on Earth could have done this, he thought.  He attempted to remove the inner tube of the toilet paper dispenser to flip the roll upside down to his liking, but discovered that it had been glued shut.  I must be dreaming, he sighed.  So, with eyes squinted shut, he dispensed what he perceived to be enough toilet paper, and found that he must have yanked too hard, littering the bathroom floor with excess toilet paper.  He could feel his spirit begin to crack within the pit of his heart.  He bent down to tear a segment of the fallen bathroom tissue so that he could wipe, then proceeded to clean himself.  After he wiped, he discovered, with gradual mortification, that a brown streak ran up from the toilet paper past his wrist, past his forearm, up to his bicep.  He began to cry.  Why is this happening? What have I done to deserve this? I just wanted to relieve myself…

He looked down, and discovered that the toilet paper was gone.  He reached desperately over to the cabinet to find the extra rolls.  Instead, he was greeted by a raucous explosion of noisemakers, leaving his knees quaking and without a doubt that he had emptied himself of refuse.  With his heart pounding and his head furiously attempting to stave off a headache, he took a few moments to make sure he caught his breath.  Then, he got up with his head down grimly, knowing he had not entirely cleaned himself – he came to terms with the fact that he had no other choice. He grimaced as he pulled up his pajama pants, knowing that they would need to be washed promptly.  As he flushed and met his own gaze in the mirror, his spirit crumbled within him as he saw that the brown streak ran all the way up to his right eyebrow.  He washed his hands in the sink, which thankfully worked, and found he couldn’t remove the brown streak that marked him, so he just wiped his hands off on a towel before he realized that he was smearing it all over his towel.  Resigning his life to his circumstance, he tearfully began to stuff the towel into his mouth, hoping that he might suffocate himself and end his misery.

And then he woke up with a start.  He had broken into a cold sweat, and was looking about himself in a panic.  He looked at his arm, and it was clean.  He checked his phone and it read April 2nd.  Relief.  Relief?  He felt the clench in his stomach, and stumbled into his bathroom, and he almost fainted.

There was the smell of lavender, the toilet paper was the wrong way, and his towel was smeared brown.