Eat the Rich
My mother always said
“He thinks his shit doesn’t stink”
and I thought about her words
dozens of times, wondering
if a posh guy stood above his toilet,
smiling with satisfaction
as he thought, “Why, my shit
has no stench at all. In fact,
it smells intoxicating.”
Perhaps he lingered for a few extra minutes,
savoring the fecal bouquet.
So much sweeter than the shit
of peasants, whose disheveled piles
attracted flies from all corners.
His own intestines could only crank out
the best possible feces, remnants
of lobster and arugula, followed by streams
of the finest chardonnay.
It was #1 number two,
and nobody else could compete.
In a shit aroma contest,
he would always come out on top.
Sometimes, in the bathroom,
I catch a strong whiff
of my own proletarian shit.
It does not smell pleasant.
Perhaps that’s why
I never amounted to much
in the capitalist department.
Leah Mueller‘s work is published in Rattle, NonBinary Review, Brilliant Flash Fiction, Citron Review, New Flash Fiction Review, Does It Have Pockets, Outlook Springs, Your Impossible Voice, etc. She has received several nominations for Pushcart and Best of the Net. One of her short stories appears in the 2022 edition of Best Small Fictions. Her fourteenth book, Stealing Buddha was published by Anxiety Press in 2024. Website: http://www.
