There I was, crunching my abdominal muscles as I tried to push a potato-sized object through a hole the size of a nostril, when I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of relief. At first I thought this was down to my bowel excavation, as I glanced back and admired my dense handiwork. This was definitely one for the scrapbook. As I went to fetch my camera, I caught a glimpse of myself. That is, I noticed there was another me stood there, in the bathroom, looking at my poo.
He was as shocked as I was to see me. We both stood there in disbelief for several seconds before I dared to move a muscle. He must have had the same idea because he also raised his hand as a greeting.
This person thought exactly like me, did the exact same things as me, and even danced the Macarena with as much gusto as me (trust me, nobody Macarenas like Addman). It was like our minds were one, but our bodies were two. I had found an identical copy of myself, a being from an alternate dimension summoned through the intense muscle spasms of a spectacular faecal incident. My poo had torn through the fabric of space-time and transported myself from a parallel universe to witness the event. At least, that was the most logical conclusion I could draw from all this.
Just think, having two bodies and brains could make me twice as smart, multiplying my intelligence by 1.5. Or maybe we would become greater than the sum of our parts, like a desk from Ikea with a few spare screws at the end.
|It's shocking how often I post pictures of toilets on the Internet|
It was our civic duty to use this opportunity for the good of mankind. Taking myself by the shoulder, we set out into the open world to cure cancer, solve world hunger, or find out what Silica Gel actually is. We went out into the streets to spread our message of jubilation and to let the world know that all of their problems were over.
Unfortunately, there weren’t many people willing to listen to us. When we shouted at people walking by, they tried their hardest to ignore us. Perhaps they couldn’t comprehend the paradox that we creating, but their closed-minded bullshit was really starting to grind. Couldn’t they see that everything we were doing, we were doing for love? Love of our fellow man? But not in a gay way.
Anyway, in the end we felt so disillusioned that we went to a funfair to cheer ourselves up.
The man at the Candyfloss stall wouldn’t sell us any, mainly because we didn’t have any money and kept asking each other to pay. We vowed revenge, but decided to check out one of the spooky houses as a fun treat.
Inside, I started to feel as though I was being watched. These places are meant to make you feel unusual, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. As we rounded the corner, there in front of us were countless other me’s from countless other dimensions. Some were tall and skinny, others were short and fat, and some probably liked the taste of Marmite. Here, located entirely within the confines of this small room, stood an entire legion of us. Our overwhelming numbers would be enough to conquer the globe, and that’s when my thoughts shifted from helping my fellow man, to dominating my fellow man. After all, they refused to listen when I tried to spread the word. They deserved it, starting with that candyfloss guy.
Leading the charge, we ran out of the house in innumerable numbers and proceeded to launch our assault across the dodgems.
That’s the last thing I remember. I woke up in hospital with no sign of the other Addmans. Apparently, I’d been hit by a bumper car while holding a bathroom mirror. Since that day I have felt a gaping void inside me, left by my alternate copies. A part of me died that day. But do not fret dear reader! I have had a whole bowl of chilli for dinner tonight, so it’s only a matter of time before the porcelain throne becomes a portal to a parallel me once again.