Alright, so I did it. I didn't want to, and I was wholely against the idea from the start, but it was an emergency and I caved.


I took a shit at work.


Yeah, that's right, I took a big shit at work, and what are you gonna do about it, huh? That's what I thought.


I hate doing it really. I mean you're in there, there's only one stall and one urinal. Everyone knows everyone else. They know you're in there. They know what you're doing. Don't think they don't. They know exactly what goes on in there. Plus its a small room. It's tiled. Very echoey. Its like an ampitheater in there. Every time you go in there, you're putting on a very public rectal concert. And what if you stink up the joint. They're gonna know you smell like shit. Think you can get away with it? Wrong. People know. They just do.


Anyway, it really was an emergency. I'd been feeling that familiar gurling borborygmus in the pit of my stomach since that breakfast burrito. And all day it had been churning and festering, just waiting to come back and bite me in the ass. Literally.


I mean I was in real, physical pain here, people. My colon was about about to swell and burst, into a million tiny little colons...like in fantasia, except with feces. It was not pleasant. So I got up, limped/walked all the way over to the other side of the building, all the while expertly maintaining anal integrity, until I got to the second, lesser known, kind of tucked away bathroom way down the hall. Nobody used that thing, even though it had the big handicapped stall with the wide lane and the guide rails. You can't beat that. It's the first class ticket of public bowel movement. And that restroom has two stalls, so you get a nice buffer between you and any would-be pee-ers.


So anyway, I got over there, and the place was virtually deserted. Even the surrounding cubicles were empty. I mean it was 5 ish, on friday afternoon....barely anyone around. So I strode in confidently, but still lightly, as not to arouse any sort of sympathetic urges from any nearby urethra's. So I got in, and of course chose the super spacious handicapped concert hall toilet, with the buffer stall inbetween me and the urinal. And there I was, feeling pretty good, everything was coming out just fine, when the unthinkable happened. I hear the door open. Someone came in. There was a pause. A trickle. He was peeing! Here, in my bathroom, right in the middle of my super secret 007 evacuation. The nerve.


So of course with the buffer stall, and my not breathing, I don't think that schmuck ever even knew I was in there gettin down. And to top it all off, he didn't even wash his hands. Dirty bastard.


So yeah, it wasn't the first time....it won't be the last, but somehow, no one really seems to give a shit.