EPT
i need to take a shit, so i finish with my funniest joke and walk offstage. that went okay. there was this interracial couple up front that didn’t laugh all night. but they may or may not have been getting each other off under the table. she had that flush high up on her cheeks, and her eyes fluttered in syncopation with her breath. that’s hot! hope i wasn’t staring at her for too long. it seems that most everybody had a good time too, though probably not as much and probably not in their tingly parts. the dinosaurs look so happy, clapping poorly with their little arms. i’m glad their existence coincides with mine. the noise of a pleased crowd circulates through the bar and makes even my butt cheeks loosen. oops yeah i should keep them tight until i get a toilet.
some girl walks by and i suddenly forget how to pretend i’m not checking her out. ahh, what a ridiculous override on my mind! are you old enough to experience love, i want to ask her. oops she’s gone. coming through, excuse me! someone apologizes for leaving the bathroom the same time i go in. i smile and let him out first. why do people apologize for that?maybe i’m just impolite.
there’s a pop song on i like. part of me wants to be a hipster and hates every moment i enjoy anything mainstream. oh man oh man how beautiful and capable of mischief that girl looked! i’ll make a pass at her after this. the big stall is open. but do i even want it? my unconscious has already made the decision and i’ll experience the illusion of choice in a few seconds. meanwhile i’ll think about how that stall is literally where handicapped people try to aim their waste nutrients into a basketball-sized (coincidence?) hole. in a sense say they’re all athletes.
my feet take me into the big stall. thanks, feet. the toilet is clean. need to reconsider my opinion of handicapped people, but not now. well maybe now. mental dossier of handicapped people, add “astonishing proficiency at basketball”. sitting down, i feel my entire body relax. do i sigh every time i sit down? piss odor comes into higher resolution as my nose adapts, and there is a certain comfort in that smell. it is unmistakably because i piss in showers when i’m too content to bother. just like you, in fact.
some dude with really expensive sounding and eventually expensive looking shoes comes in and clears his throat before peeing. the stream into the urinal sounds solid, causing my mind to immediately begin extrapolating his urethral diameter and penis size. a more appealing topic: how much do you think you can tell about someone by how they pee? this guy doesn’t mess around, just sounds like he’s peeing in the same spot. maybe wrist pains. maybe a daydreamer. not enough data. being a scientist is such a burden.
blubpblubp he farts comically. isn’t it interesting how farts can just sound so funny? but bad timing. see this is unfortunate because in the act of giggling i forget to calibrate my anti-splash poop deposit algorithm. there is a hollow regret in my heart as i wipe the toilet water off my ass. i promise to myself to never laugh while defecating. it’s a high value skill that allows you to excel in today’s chaotic marketplace.
zip. bye mr nice shoes serious guy, today i bore witness to your humanity. if there is an investigation in which they suspect you never pee and never fart, i’d have your back under oath. and thus you and me will be bound forever, maybe even legally one day. i wait for him to exit before i venture out of my cubicle. am i ashamed that he will know i poo too? irrational. unless i’m simply being discrete, which is commendable. shake shake go my hands as i dry them. they leave specks of water on my pants that could be mistaken for pee. whatever, fuck everyone. who cares if i have water on my pants? who cares if i have piss on my pants? and with that i make my way back into society.
