The Staff Bathroom

The other day, I was using the library bathroom before my shift began when it caught my attention that the stall I was in had no toilet paper. This was alarming, since the position I was in demanded such an amenity. So, I had to do the pants-around-my-ankles, feces-between-my-glutes shuffle over to the stall next to mine. Then that one had no toilet paper, either. There are only two stalls in the staff bathroom.

I began contemplating what to do. The first thing that came to mind was to step out of my underwear, use that to wipe, and then dispose of the evidence on the way out. It would no doubt cause a stench which one of my coworkers would probably report, but so long as I kept quiet nobody would have any reason to suspect me. It would probably just get pinned on one of the hobos who frequent the public access computers. But then I wondered whether polyester-cotton blend would even work as an effective arschenputzer, rather than just smear it around, and decided there was no reason to soil my Dallas Cowboys boxer shorts just so I could spend the rest of the day reeking of the shit that was caked onto my asscheeks.

There was a paper towel dispenser next to the sink, and I elected to make a dash for it. Realizing that having my pants around my ankles would only slow me down, I removed them along with my shoes and socks and scurried over to the paper towels, taking several handfuls very quickly before dashing back to the stall.

For the record, I almost made it back. Just as I was almost back to the stall, the bathroom door behind me opened so quickly that I had absolutely no chance to react.

It was Henry, my boss. I know it was him on account of the full-length mirror that was in front of me, which--and I don't know why--I looked into at the very same moment that Henry did. I don't know which image of me was more terrifying: My bare ass, with a vertical brown stripe running up the crack, or the mirror reflection which showed me completely naked from the waist down, a look of astonishment on my face as I practically leaped back into the stall while clutching two fistfuls of paper towels.

I slammed the door shut. I could feel him standing out there, just inside the bathroom door. He was as frozen stiff as I was. Finally, after what seemed like several hours, I heard the door open.

"Mr. King?" he said at last.

"Yes, Henry?"

"You won't be needed this evening, Mr. King," he said, and left the bathroom.

I was still standing up, and I seemed unable to remember where I was or how I got there. At last, I finished what I had originally set out to do and left the library at march tempo.