To the Man in the Stall Next to me…
You saved me from a humiliation no man should have to endure.
You see, I decided to take my daily “after lunch” dookie. I’m regular like that and unlike most people, I don’t have a problem taking a shit at work. In fact, I’m the extact opposite. I’d rather shit at work then at home. At work, no one bothers you. At home, I have to deal with the wife and kid and don’t get any quality time on the throne.
So, as per my usual routine, I opened up a bevy of various articles from the internet (politics, sports, entertainment) and began printing them off in anticipation of some quiet reading time.
That’s when my first disappointment of the day occurred. The printer was busted. Noooo! No reading material for me!
Arghhh… Oh well, I’ll just drop the kids off at the pool and get back to work I guess.
So, I go into the inner sanctum, and to my pleasant surprise, I’ve noticed that someone has left some reading material in my favorite stall. The handicap stall.
The Handicap stall is the Mercedes of bathroom stalls. The door opens outward, there is much more room, and there are rails on the side that you can grab hold of in case you have to brace yourself for that extra large turd burger.
Anyways, someone was kind enough to leave some articles printed off from ESPN.com. Mainly dealing with what is going on with the AFC North after the draft, this provided me with something to take my mind off and actually think I have some quality time while discharging my fecal foulness.
But wait! WTF is this? There is actually only one article on football. The next 12 pages is about bull riding. What the hell!?!? Does someone need this type of reading to jar something lose?
Darn, so much for QT.
I finished my business and reached for my first wad of butt-wipe. And reach… And reach… ummm… Hmmmm… Nothing on that roll, so I flick the divider on the dispenser so I can use the back-up roll.
And reach… And reach…
Oh shit!
No toilet paper.
WTF! Oh shit. What do I do? I need to wipe. It’s not a question of if I had a clean drop-off. I didn’t.
Nope, I need TP, and I’ll need to wipe at least 3-4 times. SHIT!
My mind begins to plan.
I can wait until the other person in the stall next to me finishes, and then do a quick waddle from my stall to the other stall and hope no one comes in the middle of the walk.
Yup, I’ll do that!
Just as the one man is leaving, another comes in. FARK!
I start breaking out in a cold sweat.
What do I do?
Do I use the shit shield paper? Nope, that’ll plug the toilet.
Maybe I could use the Bullriding article. Surely 12 pages about bullriding would be enough. Nope, that would plug the toilet as well.
I’m getting desperate. Someone has just occupied the stall next to me.
Will I be trapped the rest of the day?!?! What about my family?!?!?!
Maybe I could use my hand? Nah… how could I ever pick my nose or chew my nails after that?
Just as I’m about to say “Fuck it” and walk out to get Kleenex with my pants around my ankles, the gentleman in the stall next to me finishes up.
Wait! What’s this? What is that hanging below the stall divider? Yes! It’s toilet paper!!!
It’s almost as if you read my mind and knew I was in a possibly sticky situation. My savior!
But, I am forced to wait while you wash you hands, as the door to your stall is wide open, and I can only imagine how it would look to see me reaching under the stall and pulling the glorious butt-wipe into my stall.
You finally leave and I begin pulling for all its worth. I get about 3 feet pulled as I hear the door to the restroom open up.
That’s more then enough. Saved!
Lesson learned: Always check to make sure there is toilet paper in the dispenser.
A SoupNazzi Original