Using the bathroom has become increasingly difficult since The Breach. Some myopic Poindexter at CERN or the Hadron Collider (I don’t know which; it’s not my job, you know) smashed the wrong two molecules together or something and suddenly my poops want to crawl back up inside me every time I try to pop a squat.
Sorry if I’m getting all graphic, but it’s true.
I can’t take a dumpsky if someone else is in the bathroom, even if they’re two stalls over. I can’t. And, if someone comes in talking on a cell or – lord help me – trying to talk to me while I’m doing my duty, I won’t be able to pinch a loaf for hours. Hours! It’s that bad.
So, you can imagine what it’s like these days, right?
We’ve got a pretty nice setup here at the office: basement john, not too many guys, pretty near my cubicle. In the past, I’ve been able to have the place to myself long enough to “bake a cake” in peace. But The Breach. The Breach ended all that, my friend.
Sometimes, it’s intangible. Just that feeling when you know someone’s standing right over your shoulder. It’s not quite “breath on your neck” but the sense that they’ve inhaled and are holding it until you turn around.
Other times . . . other times, it’s more overt. Way more.
I’m talking about the eyes. You know the eyes.
They seem to have found the bathroom a nice place to cluster. I get it. It’s cool and bright and people don’t tend to linger. Plus, bathroom users are predictable. They like predictability. We’ve seen that.
But, you’re there and you’re releasing the chocolate hostage and little eyes start opening up all over the inside of the stall. Some of them are on the door and the walls but a lot of them just hang there. In the air. Looking.
Why do they do that?! We don’t know. But, it pisses me off! And, my turtle head goes back in its shell!
Or, I’m standing at he urinal, draining the wizard, and little eyes open up all along the inside. Now, I can piss on a lot of things, but wide-open eyes? Once, I whipped it away so quickly I sprayed all over the side of the sink. That was a lousy day.
So, some ass in a concrete bunker screws with the boundaries of the universe and I gotta pay the price? There’s no justice in the world.
Look, I work hard. I take my job seriously. I’m friendly with my co-workers. What did I do to deserve this? Why do I have to pay for someone else’s mistake? No one else here seems that bothered by it. “Oh, grow up,” they say, “We don’t even know if they’re attached to anything. Or, if they’re even eyes.” Sure. Eyes without a face? Naw. There’s a face somewhere out there. And, it’s laughing at what it sees.
I guess some guys have it tougher. My buddy who works in the old Casket Building? Something in there keeps reaching through and grabbing guys’ junk. Like, grabbing it and pulling. One of their receptionists? He got pulled halfway into the floor by something the other day. They got him out, but his eggs are all giant and turned around weird, now. So, you know, I guess it could be worse.
Still, having to wait to take a piss until I get home? Not. Cool. And not good for my kidneys. You know?
At my place, I’ve just got the screaming baby. It’s loud, sure, and it screams some horrible things – dark, secret things that I didn’t even know I knew – but I live alone, so whatever. It’s just a face in the wall and, if I throw some old fish into its mouth, it usually leaves me alone for a few days. Plus, it only screams in the early morning. Not a big deal.
My neighbor on the corner? His back door opens onto a blasted landscape populated by legless horrors that pull themselves along the scarred ground, constantly opening and reopening the hideous wounds on their bellies that threaten to spill out their intestines while blind slippery birds dive from the red sky and tear strips of their flesh off with serrated beaks. But, he can just go around the front if they want to use the pool, so it’s a minor inconvenience.
But, here I am having my whole bathroom schedule affected and I’m pretty darn sick of it.
It’s just . . . eyes, you know? Looking.
I have a plan, though. It may not be a good plan, but a guy’s gotta do something. Right?
I gonna grab an eye.
Risky? Yes. But, they’ve pushed me to this.
I know, we’ve been told by the muckety mucks not to interact with or interfere with anything that comes through, but we all break the rules. It’s like traffic offenses. I feed the baby, my neighbor chucks rocks at the birds, my buddy pulls the receptionist out of the floor. Nothing bad’s happened. Much.
So, next time I see one of those floaty eyes, I’m going for it. Gonna grab that sucker right out of the air. If I see another one? I’m grabbing it to. And, I’m going to keep grabbing them until I get a response!
Look, we’ve been living with unspeakable nightmares that lure our consciousness to the very edge of sanity and threaten to plunge our souls into the dark abyss where they will fester screaming for aeons until our sun is reduced to ash and the very angels themselves have forgotten the face of God for over a year now. Enough is enough.
I gotta be a man, soul and sanity be damned.
I gotta take a stand.
I gotta take a dump.