The Awkward Glimpse

Posted: January 1, 2008 in poop, work


It happened all so innocently enough – yet I feel…icky.

Let me explain.

I was there, sitting – as I’m wont to do on many a work morning – on the shitter.

As you may have previously read, I no longer have anything to do whilst I’m dropping said deuce, as my cell phone has absolutely no f*cking features.

Really.

I’m lucky it has buttons with numbers on them.


It’s then that I heard it.

The handicapped stall, two doors down, opened and someone walked out.

On a side note, I’ve never understood the need for a perfectly capable person to use the handicapped stall when other stalls are available.

Do you really need the room?

I mean – really – what the fuck are you doing in there, aerobics?

Personally, I’ve had to sit in the handicapped stall in emergency situations and – at five feet, two inches tall – it’s no fucking picnic.

I feel like a five year old sitting in the seat of a grocery store cart.

Except instead of surrounded by fruits and vegetables, it’s the horrid stench of shit.

But I’ve digressed.


The person came out, and started washing his hands in the sink in front of me.

I peered out the crack between my stall door and door jamb, you know, to see who it was.

That’s when it happened.

He looked up…turned his head towards my stall…

…and our eyes met.

(insert “Psycho” shower scene music here)

Ugh.


I quickly darted my head away.

Did he see me looking at him?

No…no…I’m only behind this little 1/4-inch crack in the door.

Does he think I’m a fucking perv?

Wait a minute…

…wait…a… minute…

I’m looking OUT.

He’s looking…

IN.

What the fuck?

Is HE a fucking perv?

Why would you try to look to see INTO a stall?

Are you really that curious to see who’s taking a shit?

Are you trying to get a glimpse of my manly man junk…or…even worse…my poo?

Screw this shit.

I’m disturbed.

Next time, it’s handicapped stall all the way. You can’t see into or out of that thing…it’s like a little apartment.

Cripples have it made.

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