How Disgusting Can You Be?

I was sitting on the toilet – my throne, my “Fortress of Solitude” – depositing a drippingly foul excrement of bloody feces. I took the burrito I was eating and dipped it down into the diarrhea infested toilet bowl and took a bite. The edges of the burrito broke as I bit into it, and all of the toppings of severed penises and broken fingers I drenched in my mother’s period juice came pouring out, and liquid shit began to run down my cheek. I was ecstatic. So ecstatic that I began to masturbate with the sand paper I used earlier that day to rub a baby’s stubby dick into a nub. The sand paper began to sever my penis, and as I noticed this happening, I quickly grabbed the liquid bleach from under the sink and pored it all over my newly formed dick wounds. I took a pair of tweezers and forcefully shoved them into my urethra as I began to come, then with my other hand began wiping the bloody diarrhea feces on my testicles and my chest, then I squeezed my balls until I felt something pop. I looked up at the clock and noticed that wrestling was about to come on. I stood up off the toilet, slammed broken shards of glass from the beer bottle I was fucking into my asshole and made my way to the television.