It all started with 5 slices of pizza. I was a kid then. I didn’t know the consequences, but I had 5 big hits of that extra cheese.
It was about 3 days later when I first felt a problem. A discomfort in my sides and pressure in my butt.I knew what the symptoms meant.
I tried a few different things to pass the cheese. I swallowed prune juice, swirled fiber powder, and gobbled lettuce, but nothing was effective, until I tried corn…

The first can was easy. I spooned the kernels while I prayed a silent prayer, wishing my constipation to cease. It was savory and sweet, but the idea of relief was sweeter. The second can hurt. Adding a bunch of corn to my bloated stomach was painful. The cheese fought a war inside my colon. I hoped it was losing.
The next day, I had my answer. After removing one leg from my jeans and praying to whatever god was watching over me, I pushed out the longest log I’d ever seen. The brown floater bobbed in the ivory commode. As I wiped my ass, I looked down to discover the turd had rolled in a semi circle. On the upward facing side, corn kernels were embedded in the brown, yam shaped poopy.

At first I hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary besides the sheer amount of yellow dotting the stool, but as it lazily rotated, I made an amazing discovery. A series of numbers, spelled in corn kernels, emblazoned my turd. After the fear subsided, I hurriedly jotted down what was written. 12 digits. 12 numbers spelled in corn in my dookie. An ominous feeling washed over me as I flushed. I did not wash my hands…
Years passed without incident, and I had forgotten that fateful day. I carried on, navigating the pitfalls of young adulthood. The corn and pizza were a distant memory, and the scribbled note was tucked away, much like the trauma of that plop.
While in college, I learned how to read coordinates. Latitude and longitude. 2 sets of numbers, six numbers a set. 12 digits. I realized what had manifested in my colon years prior.

Coordinates. A location… Destiny. An oracle had made home in my guts. His paper, a turd; his ink, a kernel.
I rushed home and searched for the coordinates. I will spare you the exact location.
On a lonely stretch of road between 2 small towns, I neared my destination. The GPS felt like a bomb ticking down. What laid before me as the timer reached zero, I did not know. Curiosity overcame my dread as I parked the car. Twilight was approaching, and the sun was barely visible against the dusty, dry landscape. I walked about 20 yards to reach a withered corn field.
A sweet odor hung stale in the air as my feet crunched against the dirt. With an unsure final step, I reached my coordinates. I was terrified, but there was nothing there. Nothing that distinguished this location from another. I waited for something to happen. What I expected, I could not guess.

As I turned toward my car, a croaking voice called to me. I swiveled, tripping on the broken stalks. A man stood before me, 3 feet from my shaking body. He was jaundiced - as yellow as corn. He was not unlike a husk. His hair was thin and translucent and yellowed. His buttery teeth were crooked in his angry gums. His eyes were sunken and sorrowful, and his cheeks were pronounced and tight. In summary - he was all kinds of gross.
He smiled a terrible smile, and spoke to me once more.
“You came”
He laughed a wheezing laugh. I blinked, and he was gone. I rotated, expecting him to re-appear, but he was no more.
I ran to my car, and started the engine.Vroooooommmmmm! Went the engine. Vrooom Vroom! Vroooooooooooom!

I sped off, putting as many miles between myself and that shell of a man.
I approached the small town that I passed an hour before, but nothing looked familiar. I lied to myself, thinking it was a stress induced fugue, but after another hour of driving, I was convinced something was wrong.
I noticed the cornfields that dotted the flat terrain were more frequent. Soon the healthy corn became frail and withered. The gaps between corn fields became closer and closer. Eventually, the corn engulfed the landscape.
I drove as fast as my car would allow, but the road was cracked and rough. Patches of brown weeds wove into the asphalt, and the corn continued. The fields were indistinguishable from the road. The wall of corn slowed the car, and I stopped.
I kicked open the door and ran towards the road, but there was no end to the sinister corn.
My run slowed to a walk. And my walk became a saunter. I wandered for hours, but I could not escape the corn.