ANDREW POH will be getting shitfaced (not really) since it’s Halloween so don’t contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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Column: Enough shit
My heart is beating frantically.
Sweat beads profusely on my brow.
There’s an ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach.
My asshole puckers to stay shut.
I rush through a door and make a mad dash to the nearest rectangular stall.
Once inside I pause and inhale a long draught of respite. I’m stopped mid-breath by the ghastly spectacle before me. My eyes widen in an odd combination of sheer terror and amazement.
Like two koi fish in a lily pond, I see two extremely large shits floating languidly in the toilet bowl. The piss in the bowl is on the brink of overflowing. It’s the kind of color that can’t be achieved by a single person’s urine, oh no.
I know what you were expecting.
You were expecting a fistful of spine-tingling Halloween-related horror stories.
Alas, I am unfortunately a fucking pussy and am deathly afraid of anything even vaguely tangential to ghosts, demons, poltergeists, leprechauns, squids, flying saucers — you get the idea.
But who said I didn’t have horror stories?
I, in fact, will be covering horror stories that are much more pertinent to your everyday lives and are much more likely to happen to you on any given day.
Yep, you guessed it.
Public restroom stalls.
Some of us never set foot in one. Others only reserve a trip for those select few days they run out of cash and are forced to dine on Taco Bell’s Bell Grande fiesta adventure burrito with zesty authentico cheesy sauce.
There are yet others, brave souls, who utilize public restrooms on a regular basis. Hey, when nature calls, duty answers. I don’t think that’s a saying, but whatever.
Oh, and finally, let’s not forget those who use public restroom stalls for the potential promise of glory holes.
No matter which group you hail from, I’m sure that you’ve all had varying degrees of public restroom horror stories.
Touching back to my opening tale, one can easily surmise that a lot of people pissed in that toilet before me, steadily raising the water level. Each and every one of them had to pee into that horrifying debacle, whilst looking up at the ceiling and conjuring thoughts of rainbows, breasts and unicorns.
So much suffering.
So much pain.
And it all traces back to the first guy who clogged the damn thing in the first place.
But hey, I can’t blame ya, guy. Last time I checked, most restroom stalls didn’t come with plungers as standard-issue. And really, who wants to be the guy that goes to the poor janitor asking them to unclog their honking shit, which was a result of eating too much all-you-can-eat Korean barbecue the other day?
What I’m calling for is a tacit agreement between all the different public restroom users. Be a little more considerate to the person/people that will be using the stall after you. Try to reserve your massive, whopping shits for your home or at least pack a foldable plunger if you’re a frequent big shitter. Maybe try flushing in between every turd?
Oh, and don’t try to flush down heaping wads of toilet paper or tampons or condoms in a public restroom. One or two are OK, I guess. I’m not a doctor.
We’re all in this shit together.
I know that dealing with shit can be difficult, but stay strong.
After all, it’s shitty to be so selfish.
If we all united under one banner we may just be able to make the world a less shitty place.
Okay, okay I’m done with the shitty puns.
Set aside your differences, social sex solicitors and prudent I-don’t-want-surfaces-that-touch-other-people’s-butts-to-be-in-contact-with-my-butt people, and together we can make tomorrow a better place.
Hah, you thought I was going to say “a less shitty place,” huh?