It’s just about an hour after lunch, you’ve just come back from Chili�s and had those baby back ribs� a couple beers (that your boss doesn’t know about). You’re sitting in your chair relaxing, when all of the sudden, a rumble from below. Oh no! Yes, there is no escaping it, you’re going to have to take a dump at work. That beer and ribs is a toxic combination in your bowel. Your neighbors have already turned green and passed out from the toxic cloud you released 15 minutes ago.

So with your hand down your pants, you walk quickly to the restroom putting your hand out in front of you like a running back to a defensive backs helmet, you slam through the door. A quick survey shows both stalls are filled! “Oh for the love of GOD WHY ME?” you scream! Some guy stands up from the stall to look at you. The SINK! No!, you tell yourself you’ll hit the 1st floor restroom and then the sink if it doesn’t work.

Gaseous cloud behind you, you slam back through the door, hit the stairwell, three steps at a time, your close to meltdown. You jump to the landing of the stairwell, almost feel a nugget slip out, three at a time you sprint down the last flight, hitting the door, you knock some poor geek from accounting on the ground, his glasses and pocket protector go two different directions, you scream “Sorry I’ve got a special delivery that can’t wait!”

Bursting through the restroom door, ‘oh shit,’ Women�s. You were blinded by the buildup of impending doom and hadn’t noticed the picture or the blur of words. Creek, creek, creek, go your sneakers as you ease back out.

Bursting through the restroom door, the right one this time, you survey the surroundings, one stall open! It only takes you four steps to get thirty feet and into the stall. Pants around your ankles you look at the seat. There is liquid on it.. “Why does this always happen at these moments? They make movies about this shit.”

The recycled toilet paper pulls one sheet at a time and you cover the seat with such meticulous precision, the pope himself would put his old wrinkled ass on it. Ass planted, you look up at he Gods above and then, it dawns on you. You’re not alone. Poop Anxiety.

Why, could you go through all that trouble and then be worried about squeezing one off, with your neighbor there? Visions of you letting go, and him start laughing go through your head. “Why won’t he leave?” you think. You consider putting your hand under the stall and asking for toilet paper. Awkward things like that make people leave. It quickly comes apparent to you that the guy next to you is reading the paper. The pain is becoming increasingly unbearable. You give up, you say a prayer, and release. For some reason, you are now laughing a bit, causing the guy next to you to laugh. “I’m sorry he cries out.� That makes it even worse. If they had a red face meter, yours would be darker than a Washington apple. Even worse, the water is splashing and coming back up. “Oh God,” you exclaim. The guy next to you, flushes, gets up and runs out. ‘Peace’ he says as the door shuts.

“Ooooohhhhhh” you sigh. “Time to call in the men in the HAZMAT suits,” you say under your breath. You flush, raise up, walk to the sink to splash water in your face, yes its still red. “Never again” You say, as you open the door and trek back to your cube.

Logging back in and checking a few of your sites you visit, you come across a blog that starts “So I’m reading the paper in the restroom, when this lunatic bursts in screaming to the toilet Gods.”

Tags: bestof, restroom
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