I’d ask for an infinite lengthed rope and shit that sucker out for days and days at only an inch or so every few seconds. I’d wander about my town, shitting my rope continuously and impressing the locals until I’ve shit out enough rope to set them up for life. The rope business has never been better in Assfuck, Arkansas or whatever Podunk hick town you imagine I’m from.

Then I’d take my show on the road, to the big city, and show them my roping, my infinite shit rope and some big shot rope tycoon would hire me on and give me some poopoo tea to really make me shit that rope. Soon enough, my rope shitting would garner the attention of the news, because why wouldn’t, right? I’d tell them straight up that I wished for this from a genie and everything, but I’d use my abnormally potent charisma to play it off for laughs. Still, I’d shit. I’d keep shitting out that rope with a sphincter and anus trained for speed.

By then, I’d be up to a few feet a second and getting better ever day. With the ropes I’m dumping, I’d be a millionaire before 35 years old and end up buying out the owner who just wants to fuck recently graduated high school chicks on his Yacht that he takes out on the Erie from June to August. I don’t need him anyways because my business plan is up my ass. Always has been. Workers? Hey, it’s been a hoot, but see ya later. See ya at Cedar Point where you fucking belong you worthless idiots. I shit rope. Uhh, what can you do exactly?

The years will go by, and I’d still be shitting rope, only now, I’d be shitting rope at a few miles a minute. So much rope. Oh god in heaven looking down on me and smiling like Dutch when he saw Dillon, so much rope. I’d be famous. More famous than you anyways. That’s for fucking sure. Rope zips outta my ass at an inhuman rate, compared to imitators. You can’t fucking do anything close to that, chumps. Oh, I’d be a billionaire alright because my ass rope would be in every single garage all across America, USA baby. KAAWWW!

Then even in my old age, shitting rope at an alarming rate where NASA is trying to figure out how to off load the stuff into the sun, I’d give an interview with one of those super busty, nearly naked content creators that have replaced actual reporters. I’d tell her, on camera at 80+ years old, that that my ass ain’t only part of me that can sling ropes. I’m talking about jizzing, of course, and since this is the future and everything is porn, I’d slam her hams right then and there and kinda prove my statement correct, though my body certainly can cash the check my mouth wrote.

Yes indeed, then even after death, as a corpse laid ass up, I’d still be butt spewing strong rope. Eons would pass and my rope would be everything, the entire planet. A distant race of humans from a black hole experiment accident type ordeal, ya know the type, would eventually come across Earth, oblivious at first, and navigate through the endless ropes. And there, in the center of it all, they’d find my somehow preserved body giving a big ol’ thumbs up with a thumbs up grin.