Episode 5: Turd Wave

Turdy goes international 

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-mind-atlas-peter-liam/1150184226https://books.apple.com/au/audiobook/the-mind-atlas-compelling-short-stories/id6769707768https://open.spotify.com/show/0qaqT21Dpl9bSJ3suLIYtA?s

https://peterliam.hearnow.com/mary-janeMake sure you add Mary Jane to your playlist 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 1:03

Episode 5. Turd Wave. The triumph of the Turd Kano had proven one thing to Turdy. Scale was everything. But localized eruptions were static. If he wanted to achieve true global dominance for his kind, he needed to take his operation international. He needed to conquer the high seas. While floating past a discarded travel magazine that had been dropped down a storm drain, Turdy stared at a picture of Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Thousands of humans baking in the sun, completely unprotected. He formulated a masterful plan. They would catch the ocean currents and hit the humans where they least expected it, right in the middle of their tropical paradise. The Great Migration. Turdy issued a global call to arms across the entire wastewater network. He needed volunteers, dense, durable, and ready for a long-haul deep-sea voyage. Thousands of seasoned solids stepped forward, eager to join the ultimate cruise of vengeance. To get to the ocean, Turdy led his massive armada through the labyrinthine underbelly of the city's infrastructure, navigating deep into the heavy-duty bypass lines. Their destination, the Bondi Beach Deepwater Ocean Outfall. With a massive rush of high-pressure flow, Turdy and his army of thousands shot out of the deep sea pipeline, leaving the shores of Australia behind. They bypassed the filtration screens entirely and entered the vast, open ocean. Using their collective weight to catch the major South Pacific Jis, the Amada floated across the globe. They braved aggressive seagulls, navigated around plastic rings, and stayed tightly packed together for warmth as the currents carried them across thousands of miles of open sea, straight toward the coast of South America. The brown horizon. Six weeks later, the waters just off the coast of Rio de Janeiro began to turn a peculiar, murky shade of amber. It was a beautiful, scorching afternoon at Copacabana Beach. The shoreline was packed shoulder to shoulder with thousands of beachgoers playing volleyball, sunbathing, and cooling off in the emerald water. Suddenly, the horizon changed. A massive, towering swell began to build a few hundred yards out. But this wasn't a normal wave. It wasn't blue, and it didn't have white foam. It was a colossal, churning wall of deep, ominous brown. And the smell arrived before the water did. A heavy, catastrophic odor of ancient Australian plumbing rolled over the sand, causing thousands of beachgoers to gag and drop their coconuts. OQ Eiso, a lifeguard yelled, pointing a trembling finger at the sea. Surfing to victory. At the absolute crest of the towering wave stood Turdy, balancing flawlessly on a discarded flip-flop, flanked by his army of thousands. Riot it in. Turdy bellowed over the roar of the ocean. For the years of the flush. Total beach saturation. The turd wave broke with catastrophic force. A literal tidal wave of pungent, concentrated sludge crashed down directly onto the crowded shoreline. It completely wiped out the volleyball courts, swallowed the sun lounges, and drenched thousands of screaming tourists in a heavy, inescapable brown deluge. For three glorious minutes, Turdy ruled Copacabana Beach. Humans were scrambling up the boardwalk in absolute pandemonium, covered from head to toe, while the surf echoed with the triumphant splashes of his army. The cleanup, but ocean waves always recede. As the energy of the massive swell spent itself against the seawall, the roaring waters began to wash backward, sweeping down into Rio's massive coastal storm drainage system lining the promenade. Turdy and his volunteers, exhausted from their transatlantic surf, were sucked straight down into the storm grates along the Arvenida Atlantica. Whoosh. They swirled through a brand new network of dark, concrete tunnels, traveling at high speeds beneath the city until they shot out of a massive intake valve with a loud splash. Turdy wiped the salt water from his eyes and looked around. The air was thick, humid, and smelled completely different. Surrounding him were millions of local Brazilian solids, looking at the newcomers with utter confusion. A local piece of debris floated by, blinking at Turdy's flip flop surfboard. Bemvindo Ao Rio, the local said sluggishly. This is the primary treatment tank. Turdy sank back into the warm, unfamiliar sludge, her exhausted but triumphant smile spreading across his face. They were back at square one, in an entirely different hemisphere, but they had the tan to prove it.