I recently purchased some Angel Soft toilet paper; a so-called "budget brand" because I'm broke as a joke right now. As it turns out, "Angel Soft" is a highly misleading product name; it was anything but.
My nightmare began on a Thursday night, which is the night when I dine on chocolate cake, soft tacos, and Tootsie Rolls. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to powder and sprinkle Immodium onto my food to prevent diarrhea, and Montezuma's Revenge soon came upon me.
As I rushed to the bathroom, clenching my sphincter as tightly as possible to keep the liquid doo-doo from spilling out my ass and down my hairless legs, I grabbed a roll of my newly-purchased Angel Soft toilet paper from the bathroom closet.
I sat down and sprayed liquid fire out of my turd-cutter, staining the sides of the toilet bowl with its intensity. After a few more pushes and a few more geysers of chocolate mudpie, it was time to wipe.
I knew I had made a mess and I was excited to try my new toilet paper, to see how it stacks up. Truth be told, I was depending on Angel Soft to provide me with a clean butthole in exchange for several of my dollars.
Angel Soft did not hold up its end of the bargain. I wiped, and I wiped, and I wiped, but half a roll later I was still getting thick layers of fudge on the paper. "My diarrhea isn't typically this messy", I thought, but defiant to not let the Browns win the Superbowl I kept on wiping.
This is where things took an alarming twist. I didn't stop getting poo when I wiped, but I did eventually get a mixture of poo and a shocking amount of blood. I was unsure what to do, but logically I figured that if what I was doing was causing me to bleed, I should stop doing that.
And so I did. But the nightmare of using Angel Soft didn't end there. No, for when I got up and flushed the toilet, the three-quarters of a roll of crap tape in the bowl clogged the toilet. As the water steadily rose and threatened to flood my bathroom floor with dookie-water, I hastily but deftly lunged for the toiler plunger, desperate to stop the mixture of toilet water, diarrhea, and piss from creating a "let my cup runneth over" situation.
It took several minutes of me standing with my pants around my ankles, wedding tackle flopping all about as I plunged that toilet like it owed me money. Finally, after enough effort to aggravate my old shoulder injury, all the feces, urine - and the cause of this entire debacle, the mile of toilet paper it took to partially clean my anus - was down the toilet where it belonged.
"The nightmare is over", I thought. Oh, how wrong I was. As I pulled up my pants and began the short jaunt back to my computer where I spend my nights leaving bigoted comments on Lil Wayne's youtube videos, I started to feel the most horrible burning sensation imaginable.
When I sat down, it felt like my anus was covered in napalm. For lack of options, I stood up and tried to walk it off; this compounded my discomfort, as the fact that the Angel Soft had also failed to completely clean my starfish meant I had that itchy feeling of a dirty butthole to deal with as well.
Desperate and out of ideas, I returned to the bathroom to try to wipe better. I grabbed the necessary pom-pom of Angel Soft and took a swipe. This caused the fire in my poop cannon to reach critical mass. Like a cartoon, the pain almost made me jump and hit the ceiling.
By this point, I didn't give a damn if I was wearing pants or not. I had tossed them aside and decided on plan B: run to the freezer and figure things out from there. The only thing I found in the freezer was a frozen steak, which I promptly inserted between my buttocks.
Finally, relief. I wasn't just going to stand in the kitchen half-naked with a steak between my buttcheeks, so I decided to go lay down. Every step was pure agony as the frozen steak could only do so much to soothe the inferno blazing on my bleeding poohole.
As I laid down, steak betwixt my buttocks, I did the only thing I knew what to do at such a point of misery: pray to God for a quick, painless death.
Eventually, the burning did stop. The tenderness was still there, however, so my butt remained dirty for quite some time - nevermind the steak, that thing thawed out covered in blood, poop, and sweat. Ain't nobody eating that.
You would think that was enough, but a week later, and a week after switching back to Charmin, I felt an even worse pain upon taking a sizable yet solid dump. Naturally, I was concerned, so I went to see my doctor.
He put on a glove, told me to pull down my pants, and he proceeded to put his fingers deep inside my rectum. He kept apologizing the entire time, which made it even more awkward than the fact that a doctor whose name I cannot pronounce was tickling my prostate.
The doctor found that I had hemorrhoids. A hemorrhoid is an infected blood vessel on the anus or in the rectum. I related my story about the Angel Soft toilet paper, and he concluded that the hemorrhoids were caused by the rectal bleeding that was caused by the Angel Soft.
Today, I'm sitting on a pillow that looks like a donut and starving myself because every time I have to take a dookie, I nearly pass out from the pain.
All of this could've been avoiding if I hadn't decided to cut corners and had just spent the extra couple bucks on Charmin, which is what I ended up doing anyway.
Calling a product "Angel Soft" should be more like a promise, but instead it was a cruel bait-and-switch in which Montezuma indeed got his revenge. This brand and all associated products should be avoided at all costs if you value the integrity of your poop chute.
