I Took a Shit in the Metaverse
My advanced copy review
The first time you take a dump in the metaverse, you don’t know if you’re taking a shit in real life at the same time or not.
If nobody’s there to hear the plop when the turd falls into the loo, do we still have a soul? Should it be called metashit? How is it possible to perceive every step of the feces discharging process without actually doing a whoopsie?
These are the kind of questions that come to your mind when you pinch your first loaf in the metaverse.
It’s not the shitty experience you might think it is. It’s transcendental.
When our proto-turd is still in the large intestine, it’s a part of us, and we don’t mind; we don’t even think about it.
Now that I wrote about it, you might. But don’t worry, this gross feeling of having some poo inside your body will soon disappear. Hopefully. That’s not an image I would like to keep in mind for too long.
As soon as our bowels start moving towards the void, the proto-turd becomes shit, and we don’t want to have anything to do with it. It’s not part of our body anymore. It’s nothing but an old sock on its way to the dumpster. It makes me kind of sad to think that something was at the very center of my body once, and now, I don’t give a shit about it anymore.
Add to this a layer of metavirtuality and consider this question. What about the virtual shit in the metaverse; was it ever part of us?
And more importantly, is playing with it wrong? (I’m joking here)
Experiencing this primal process in the metaverse forces you towards introspection. You start wondering which parts constitute your true self; and which parts you could let go of without losing yourself. Dropping a log, real or virtual, doesn’t change your core beliefs. But doing it in the metaverse begs for the following question:
Did you figuratively drop your body in real life to enter the virtual metaverse?
But the real questions come after your metaflushed the metatoilet (assuming you’re metawell mannered here).
How powerful can marketing be if we’re ready to pay for the experience of taking a metashit? And how much did the toilet paper brand pay to get their metaroll on the metadispenser?
In summary: I don’t recommend taking a shit in the metaverse.
What scared me the most was that I got metabored on the metatoilet.
That’s when I decided to go double-meta.
Expecting some Inception type of metadrama, I was disappointed to find myself back home, sitting on the toilet, with my wife banging on the door, wondering what I was doing in there for so long.
Here’s another perspective on the metaverse by my good friend, Loudt.
Smillew is a Medium writer who writes mainly about masturbating in the metaverse, his Medium newsletter, and his Medium referral link. No need to follow him; he’ll show up in your feed.






