Thread 24790721

Supervised by the eyeballs bulging out of goblin asses, we eat dinner in the bathroom, one floor below the barracks. “Asses down!” a goblin shouts.

Everyone drops their pants and plops down on a hollow tree stump that leads somewhere far below Auschwitz, maybe to the bicycle labyrinth. The ass goblins let us eat
breakfast the child way, but they force us to eat dinner like them. With our asses. They flash yellow teeth at us, their grins widening to fill their entire faces. Watching so many
children sit on toilet stumps makes them happy as heck. The band starts up with a detuned lullaby and all the goblins raise their quarts of cider, spilling everywhere. “Bring on the toads! Bring on the toads! Bring on the toads!” they chant. And they chug, chug, chug.

After breakfast and work, we end the day with toilet toads, creatures who live in the stumps and only emerge when summoned by the music of the ass goblins.
Inside my stump, a toilet toad croaks. Otto’s toad croaks too. Here they come. I dig my fingers into soggy wood and hold on for dear life. Slap! A tongue slips inside my rectum. Far longer than a goblin finger, the tongue wriggles all the way inside me and swims around my belly. Fed only the skin of children, there’s nothing inside me for the toilet toad to grab, so it wedges another vital organ from its place. The pain differs from night to night, depending on what the tongue decides to pull from my body. Tonight is the worst kind, my insides flaring up like I’m full of a thousand long knives.

I scream. Tears clean some ash from my cheeks. The ass goblins do not care how much we cry during dinner, so long as we plant ourselves to the tree stumps and let the toilet toads do their work. My ass cheeks swell out as the tongue stretches my rectum wide enough for a large organ to plop out. Blood and feces gushing out, I focus on bracing myself to the stump. This is the point where some kids fall into the toilet, never to be seen again.

Then it’s over, at least the first part. The toilet toad squeezes around my rear and hops into my lap. Toilet toads always melt a bit, as if they’re made of chocolate. They’re
shit, though. Pure shit. The toad wags its tongue, presenting me the pulsing red blob that it stole from my body. You never know what you’ll be eating for dinner until this point. Tonight it’s my heart. “Eat! Eat! Eat!” the ass goblins chant, relishing the festival of child misery.

I glance over at Otto. Apparently he’ll be eating a kidney. “It’s alright,” I tell him, “I ate one last night. They taste better than the rest.” He glares at me, his eyes gray and his face in shadow. He unwraps the toad tongue and raises his kidney to his thin lips, takes a bite. I take my heart in my hands but get caught up watching Otto. He smiles for the first time since the ass goblins took us from Kidland.

“Eat! Eat! Eat!” Otto spits a kidney stone. The toad on his lap snatches it up and disappears between his legs, down into the tree stump. I didn’t even know Otto had kidney stones. Maybe that’s what has upset him so much. I hope he feels better now. The toad sitting on me slaps my face three times in a row, smearing bile. I wipe the back of my left hand across my lips, but the toad slaps me again. The toilet toad is forcing me to eat with my lips covered in coppery-sour fluids. Best to finish fast. Fortunately my heart is small. I swallow half in one bite. Chew, chew, chew, vomit rising in my throat, chew some more, swallow. Satisfied, the toilet toad returns to its home. Subdued by agony, I choke down the second half.

The ass goblins stagger through the bathroom to ensure that every toilet toad is gone and that all children have eaten their dinner A few stumps down from Otto, a little girl holds something bloody in her hands. My vision is bad, but I know the mystery meat is supposed to be her dinner. She might be newer to Auschwitz. New kids usually have the most trouble stomaching their own organs.

I grip my stump, hoping this girl will just eat it. She still has time. The ass goblin inspecting our row moves slow and looks incredibly drunk. She needs to stop crying and stay strong. She doesn’t understand. I would yell at her, but I am not the type who sacrifices his own hide for strangers. No heroics here.

The ass goblin reaches the girl and hoots loud enough for everyone—ass goblins and children alike—to fall silent and watch. The hoot of an ass goblin sounds very similar to a trumpet, an instrument I used to play. When an ass goblin hoots, you know Shit Slaughter is coming. Apparently, this girl never caught on. She shoves the meat into her mouth. Her cheeks balloon out. The goblin scratches its ass and punches her in the throat. The meat flies across the bathroom, splattering across a boy’s face. The girl wheezes and gags. The ass goblin hoots a third time, jaws widening so far apart they unlock and fold over its head . . . row after row of rotten teeth.

“Shit! Slaughter! Shit! Slaughter! Shit! Slaughter!” the ass goblins chant.

The goblin picks the girl up by the throat. Her face turns blue. Vomit dribbles down her chin as the goblin takes her in both hands, turns her upside down, and shoves her up his own ass.

He jiggles from side to side and waves both sets of claws in the air. Egg-smelling steam burbles from his mouth. The ass goblins stop chanting. The big moment is almost here. A swastika made from the little girl blasts out of the goblin’s head, flinging shit as it spins around the bathroom and bounces off the walls. The goblin in Shit Slaughter mode bumbles after the swastika. After a pursuit that makes my head spin, its head of teeth snaps shut around the former girl, grinding her up. The ass goblin’s head returns to normal.

Dinnertime is over

This book wasn’t nearly as grotesque and horrific as I would have imagined and by the end it becomes such jumbled absurdity that you can’t even register who’s cock is eating who’s shit to death. Really funny parody of YA dystopian fiction though.