THE HAZY MEMORIES: He’s eating cookies, while talking on the phone, while taking a shit.

7:56 AM.  Before I leave the restroom, I must address a nagging issue.  I go to the handicapped stall and open the door.  I give it a little push to close.  Gravity doesn’t take it at all.  He slammed that door.  What an asshole.  And on top of everything, he didn’t even offer me a cookie.

7:55 AM.  I have class as well, hence my point of being at school.  I finish up my business in the stall and head towards the sink to wash my hands.  Like a normal person.

7:54 AM.  He leaves the restroom without washing his hands.  I wish I could’ve made eye contact with this guy.  So I’d have a face to connect all this disgust with.

7:53 AM.  “Yeah, I’m actually on my way to class right now, so I’ll call you when I get out – okay – bye.” The phone call is immediately followed by the rattling of the toilet paper dispenser.  He flushes the toilet and gathers his belongings, I’m assuming cookie wrappers.  He exits the stall and seemingly smashes the door behind him.  I hope it was mostly gravity slamming that door, or else I just found the world’s biggest asshole.

7:52 AM.  A whole minute goes by where he doesn’t say anything and the silence is only broken by the occasional fart or plop.  Is he off the phone now?  Has he moved on to eating brownies?

7:51 AM.  “One second — yeah, I’m on the phone,” he rudely snaps back.  Okay… let’s add this up.  He’s eating cookies, while talking on the phone, while taking a shit.  That’s some fucked up multitasking.

7:50 AM. Relief rushes over me.  From this day forward, I swear off gas station fast-food.  Lesson learned.  My inner peace is interrupted by a voice from the adjacent stall.  “I’m just sitting here enjoying some cookies,” the voice echoed.   Confused by what I just heard, I reply back.  “Excuse me?”

7:49 AM.  Two stalls, the handicapped one on the right is occupied.  I rush into the left and feel like I’m going to lose continence before I can even get my pants down.  Luckily, my strength perseveres and I land on the toilet. As soon as ass meets seat, there is an immediate explosion that sounds like a water balloon being thrown into a metal bucket.  I hear a bit of rustling from the next stall and assume that he’s trying to hurry away to avoid the nuclear fallout.  I drop another bomb to prove that I am hostile.  Evacuate these lands.

7:48 AM.  I can see the restroom sign.  Almost there.  Turtle-walk-speed-walk-butt-cheeks-clenched.

7:47 AM.  I’m in the building.  If I shit myself now, I have to switch schools.

7:45 AM.  The urgency of the situation hits me as soon as I put my car into park.  This isn’t a normal bowel movement.  This is a bowel revolution.  I walk swiftly and cautiously towards the college entrance.

7:43 AM.  I break out into cold-sweats as I search for a parking spot.  That gas-station burrito that I enjoyed last night is acting as a Trojan horse, waging a dreadful war on my insides.  I’m about to experience a very Americanized version of Montezuma’s Revenge.

7:40 AM.  I’m about ten minutes away from school when I feel it.  A lightning quick burst of pain to my lower abdomen.  Then I hear the thunder from down under.  A storm is forming in my intestines and I think it’s going to be a downpour.


Author: JuiceJohn

It doesn't have to make cents.

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