text: [Themes: horror, humor, romance]
  
  You haven't even made it through the first day of first grade, and you already have serious decisions to make about your future.
  
  To the left is the girl's bathroom. And to the right is the boy's bathroom.
  
  You stand between the two entryways stuck on the fence of a colossal tipping point in your life. Stupidly, you pick your nose while lost in thought.
  
  The obvious solution to this puzzle would be to just go into the boy's room. You are a boy after all. You've got a dinky and everything. But... isn't it kind of gay to go into the same bathroom as a bunch of other guys? Now, if you went into the girl's bathroom, that wouldn't be gay at all.
  
  [Author's Note: Warning: Not suitable for children. Written over the course of about three days prior to the extension, as a late decision to enter EndMaster's Depraved Love Contest. The extension was squandered trying to write something more serious, but that story deserves a more honorable effort than Billy. Billy always had a wild side, even as a tyke. Another story where you don't really win or lose. You just have a more or less pleasant existence.]
  
  > enter the boy's bathroom
  You decide you should use the boy's bathroom since you have a dinky, and the boy's bathroom has special wall toilets specifically designed for people with a dinky.
  
  You step inside and the overwhelming and unmistakable stink of fresh poop wafts through the air. From the confines of one of the stalls, you hear sobbing, blubbering, and sniffling. You've successfully identified the source of the stink.
  
  With all the bravado and indecency of a small child, you waltz up to the stink stall and knock on the door.
  
  "Hey, who's in there? You stink. Did you poop your pants? Can I see?"
  
  "B-Billy, is that you?" says the stink boy. "Can you ask the nurse to call my parents?"
  
  "Is that you Ed? Sorry buddy. I can't do that until I get some kind of compensation for my services."
  
  "What's compensation?" asks stink boy through a sniffle that triggers a fart and a splash.
  
  "Something you give me in return for me doing something for you."
  
  "Oh... uh, what do you want?"
  
  > ask for all of stink boy's lunch money
  "I want all of your lunch money."
  
  "But it's only Monday! I won't be able to eat lunch until next week!" Stink boy farts again and another splash rings through the boy's bathroom. "I'll give you two days worth. Deal?"
  
  "Ed, you're in no position to be making demands. In fact, I think I'm just going to go tell everyone that you pooped your pants. I'm sure that'll make a great first impression."
  
  "Stop!"
  
  "Yeah, that's what I thought."
  
  After some squirming and more than a little sloshing, Ed slides his lunch money to you from under the stall door. It stinks of poop. But you wash it off and hide it in your sock before heading off to the nurse's office.
  
  "Are you okay?" the nurse asks. She's awfully pretty, a blonde bombshell straight out of one of your step-dad's gentleman's magazines. "Where do you hurt?"
  
  You point to your chest. "In my heart Miss because I'm afraid I'll never see another woman half as beautiful as you... Oh, and Ed Hunter pooped his pants. He's cowering in his own stink in the boy's bathroom. I think he wants his mom to bring him clean clothes."
  
  The nurse flushes crimson before stammering about how she'll call right away. You shrug, smile, and head back to class.
  
  > After school
  The school day comes and goes, and you feel marginally less stupid than you did this morning. Although, you can't say for sure that it was because of anything your teacher did or said.
  
  But as you lie in bed at night, trying to get some glorious sleep, the sound of a furiously creaking bed keeps you awake. It seems your step-dad has decided that tonight is another great night to pound your mother's vagina into oblivion. According to Grandma Coker, you shouldn't know about that sort of thing yet, but you kind of think everyone else is stupid for not knowing. Isn't knowledge supposed to be power?
  
  Sometimes you swear that your step-dad tries to make as much noise as possible to purposely make sure you hear him giving it to your mother. Anyway, you know you're not going to be getting any sleep anytime soon, so you decide you may as well sneak out and entertain yourself.
  
  Getting out of the house proves boringly simple due to all the noise your step-dad is making. The only question left is, where to go?
  
  > play a prank
  You head down the street and make your way toward your Sunday School teacher's house. She's a crabby old bitch and smells rotting cabbage. When you asked her how the Virgin Mary could have a baby if she didn't have a dinky stuck inside of her, she bent you over her knee and fanned your ass for being a "naughty and insubordinate child with a filthy mouth."
  
  Well, tonight you're going to fix her cantankerous old bunions with a little home-brewed medicine.
  
  The lights in her house are all off, even though it's not even 9:00 P.M. yet. Pulling this prank off is going to be even easier than you thought.
  
  > shit in her mailbox
  You drop your drawers and force out a nice turd. Several kernels of corn stand out beautifully in the brown excrement. You feel more than a little proud at having dropped such a healthy look deuce.
  
  Unwilling to soil your hands with filth, you snatch a few leaves from nearby trees and use them to pick up the turd and stuff it inside the mailbox.
  
  You have to pinch yourself to keep from laughing. When the deed is done, you head home, more than a little pleased with yourself. As your Sunday School teacher will no doubt soon find out, you should never bullshit a child with the malice of a pit bull and the shit of a mad bull.
  
  > Two years later . . .
  It's the Sunday before the first day of third grade, and your step-dad drops you off at church so he can go down to the pub and shoot some pool. He tells you to say a prayer for your mom, who's currently in the hospital, recovering from a ruptured sphincter, then takes off.
  
  With nothing better to do, you decide to go to the Sunday School program. Jesus is just as an important part of the trinity as Aphrodite and Dionysus.
  
  > Sunday School
  Your Sunday School teacher gives a lecture about the virtues of honesty and how confessing your sins and accepting Jesus into your heart will earn you a place in heaven.
  
  This makes sense to you. High moral fiber probably builds a sturdy character, just as a high fiber diet builds sturdy poops.
  
  Politely, you raise your hand.
  
  "Yes, Billy?" The Sunday School teacher asks.
  
  "I have a confession to make, Miss Beaver. I was the person who took a poop in your mailbox two years ago."
  
  The class bursts into a cacophony of gasps and laughter.
  
  Miss Beaver tries to conceal her humiliation and fury, and for the most part, she does a great job. But she has a tell. When Miss Beaver gets angry, she gets really gassy. The smell is actually more pleasant than her typical aroma of rotting cabbage.
  
  "I'm very proud of you, Billy. It's never hard telling the truth. But Jesus is very happy with you. Everyone else, we're done for the day. Head down to the cafeteria for some milk and cookies. Billy, can you wait a moment? I have something I want to give you."
  
  Miss Beaver gushes some more about how great you are for telling the truth. She says she has something stored away in the back of the church that only good little boys get to play with.
  
  Of course, you don't buy this bullshit at all, especially when she starts unlocking doors and leads you to an old storage room that doesn't look like it's been used in years... except there is definitely a trail of ruffled dust heading back toward an old confessional box.
  
  > snatch a letter opener off a nearby desk
  You snatch a letter opener off a nearby desk and hide it in your pocket.
  
  "It's just inside this box," says Miss Beaver, pointing to the confessional.
  
  You pretend to have trouble opening the handle. "I think it's stuck. Can you open it for me?"
  
  "Certainly, Billy."
  
  Miss Beaver opens the door, and you rush inside, stabbing and slashing wildly with the letter opener. The metallic scent of blood flows into the air. You have stabbed a naked deacon for critical damage!
  
  You spin on your heels and leap at Miss Beaver in a wild frenzy. The old hag topples to the floor, and her hip shatters with a thunderous crack! Your letter opener glides into her eyes and carves out her throat, though the latter takes much more effort.
  
  The naked deacon staggers from the confessional, bleeding from numerous puncture wounds and cradling his nearly completely severed dinky.
  
  You stand over him as he collapses to the floor. Feeling accomplished and satisfied with your personal safety, you calm yourself using advanced meditation techniques you've practiced over the years to help you sleep while your step-dad has sex with your mom.
  
  "I think you're going to hell, sir," you say ever-so-politely as the deacon withers and heaves his last dying breaths.
  
  You report the incident to police afterwards, and in a matter of days, top government agents escort you away to a secret facility to run diagnostic tests on you, suspecting you have exceptionally advanced mental capacity for a child your age.
  
  Unfortunately for them, they awaken your true nature.