Normally, I try and be a pretty nice guy. Usually, I’m quite successful at it. Occassionally, I foul up.
Like today.
I was good until lunch. I was even good until I got to the bathroom door after lunch. Then, like a giant Pandora’s Box, I pushed it open and entered.
Stall #1: door ajar.
Stall #2: door ajar.
Stall #3: door closed but no sackrace trousers showing underneath.
Monte, I’ll take door #1 please.
Normally you’ll hear a rustle from any other cuarto de poopie resident as they try to make you aware of their presence. Despite the mounting pressure being exerted by what seemed to be an enormous brown piston on my backside, I sat as still as a duck hunter for ten seconds and listened. Nothing.
Then I unleashed the hounds. First came a bang worthy of a goose gun. Then it sounded like a couple of poorly bred and overweight labs hitting the pond. Even I, the progenitor of this violence, was a bit alarmed.
Embarassed for myself, I decided to calm my fears of a witness to this madness by proving to myself no other squatter was in the confines of this stink tank.
I rolled up a length of toilet paper until it approximated a walnut. I then launched said walnut over the walls, clearing both the physical barrier as well common decency, and heard it bounce and then come to a halt on the floor.
Silence.
Phew. Bang! More overweight dogs. Stink. Silence.
All of a sudden boink, a walnut sized clump of toilet paper hit me on the head. Not expecting it and thinking I’m all alone, I let out a most horrible girley man yelp. Eeeeek!
Frikkin’ heck, I’m sharing my anus in Surround Sound with a cow-orker and now I’ve pelted him with, of all things, toilet paper?
How do you get out of this? If I finish first, he’ll ID me when I go to wash my hands. If he finishes first he can check out my shoes and look for me later. I like these shoes. I want to be able to wear them with pride again someday.
click goes a 25 watt bulb over my empty head… I’ll leave first but go to another bathroom to wash up. I start to clean up but just I shit like a Seattle rain and much wiping was required. I silently buckled my trousers and stealthly cracked open the door to hasten my escape and then reached back and flushed. The last thing I heard as I walked out the door was the sound of my squat overflowing the toilet I’d just clogged and the splash as flotsam started streaming toward my surely horrified companion.
Okay, I’m really not thinking well at all by this point. My face feels really red and I hear a steady pounding from my temples to my chest. So I do the only sane thing… there’s a maintenance cart right there and I push it against the bathroom door to block and delay the chance of pursuit by the poor SOB whose senses I just assaulted.
Jeez man, what the hell is wrong with me today? Why did I just wreak havoc on some dude?
Good gosh… poor guy.
I’m still giggling to myself about it.