THE RESTROOM, by Joseph Simmons
Carl rambled on about the VP’s and their ineptitude, and some story about a guy he’d never met and something about some thing and whatever as Sam stood in the large stall and stared into the toilet. I don’t have to go anymore, he thought. I’m good. Dumbshit Carl’s talked me out of it. He’ll finish pissing in a minute, then I’ll go back to my desk and forget this ever happened. I may never go to the bathroom ever again.
But Sam’s stomach had a different idea. A hot gurgle warned him that he had gone into the restroom for a reason and he’d better get the job done no matter who else was in there.
“But the food,” Carl said. Sam tried to ignore him, but couldn’t. The man’s voice was echoing off of the tiles and the walls in the stall. “Sammy, let me tell you about the food. This company will pay whatever you want for dinner anywhere.”
As quiet as he could, trying to use ninja-like skills, Sam unfastened his belt and pulled down his pants and sat on the toilet. He didn’t want his belt to jingle too loud and elicit any comments on his actions from the loudmouth. The seat was cold and the pale cream walls never seemed so big and blank and tall. Sam sat and knew that he was now trapped and hoped to any gods in the universe that Carl wouldn’t want to keep talking until he flushed and walked out.
“We went to this rooftop place where they must have hired the waitresses out of the Victoria’s Secret catalog. I’m not shitting you,” Carl said. “And the women weren’t the best part. The food was amazing. These sales guys, they said they go there all the time, and make the company pay for it. Half the shit on the menu didn’t have prices. You don’t know how much I love eating at places like that. Especially when I don’t have to pay.”
Oh yeah? Good. That’s wonderful, Carl.
“No shit, Sammy,” Carl said, “Best steak you could ever have. Even better that it was free.”
Alright. Good. Next time, make sure you choke on it, Sam thought. God dammit, are you ever going to stop pissing?
Sam’s bowels clenched as Carl kept going on and on. He wondered how much he had drank. It was early and the guy must have been getting rid of gallons. Through the walls behind him, Sam heard muffled voices. He’d never realized how paper thin the walls were. He could hear conversations and he recognized voices. The entire world was creeping in around him.
When Carl gets out of here, I need to let loose, Sam thought. I need to do this before anyone else can come in. He stopped to listen to the voices beyond the wall. Carl was talking about a rental car or something. They’re all going to hear me, and everyone in the office is going to know who did it.
“Hey, Sam, you ever drive one of those big SUVs? The Mercedes.”
Fucker’s asking me a question, Sam thought. Stop talking to me in the bathroom. Do not talk to me in the bathroom.
“Think I’m getting one for myself,” Carl said. Sam stared at the floor and shook his head, grateful the man liked to hear himself talk and didn’t need an answer. “You know, but I’m getting the model with the leather and all the bells and whistles. You’ll see it. It’ll shine in the parking lot.”
READ PART FIVE….