FireShark

Frank goes to a Public Restroom

So, there he is in all his glory: one stall, one man, one flush.  But a lifetime of T.V. and video games hardly prepares a man for the boredom of a public restroom.  Now, while most of us feel anxiety or embarrassment whilst sitting on the throne of the common man, Frank just felt his usual urge.  He tried to resist it, he really did, but there’s only so many limericks a man can take before he resorts to his old ways.  Here I sit, same as ever… I once knew a man from Nantucket… for a good time…. So and so’s a such and such… etc. 

He reached down into the pocket of his work slacks.  Stained with oil and rust, they held the key to venting his need.  Frank pulled it out: a locksmith pick from his wallet.  Rarely had he been known to leave home without it.  They always had it wrong: toilet paper is meant to feed over the top of the roll, never the bottom.  Idiots.  Every damn time he went in to a public restroom it was up to him to fix the damn thing.  Whether it was the increased dependence on foreign laborers or the universe was just inordinately screwing with him, he wasn’t sure.  What he did know was that there was no way in hell he’d wipe with paper slung in the wrong direction.  He’d have to remedy the situation before time ran out.  

Sweat beaded across his ever-growing forehead as he sat down and went to work at two jobs at once: the call of nature on the one hand and the lock on the toilet paper dispenser on the other.  Fiddle, scrape, plop, sigh, and back to work on the lock.  That’s when a man walked in, shoes squeaking and pants legs rubbing.  Frank couldn’t see who it was from inside the stall but did it really matter? He had bigger problems to deal with than this fat bastard.  The guy wasn’t even on frank’s radar until he walked into the stall next to him, dropped traw, and then went to work.

            Quietly, Frank resumed his mission.  Delicately turning each prong of the paper dispenser like a safecracker, he accomplished his goal.  He could now turn the toilet paper to face the right way and wipe his cares away the way God intended, but what was this?  Curiosity wafted up to him.  He saw, like a tiny beam of light to a sealed in mine worker, the toilet paper roll for the stall next to him, hung improperly.  What kind of fool connects two stalls’ toilet paper dispensers?  What arrogance is in the heart of man to tempt both fate and chance by improperly hanging the other as well?  What game was the universe at this day- to push a man farther than his mind could bear?  To do such injustice to an innocent, albeit cheap, roll of toilet paper?  It was bait too sweet not to swallow.

Frank finished his work in the driver’s seat, pulled up his pants and then reached a trembling hand through the hole betwixt the stalls.  Gingerly removing the paper, cradling it in his arms as a babe, it was his.  The universe hadn’t won this time, but what about tomorrow?  Wouldn’t the same problem resurface in no more than a few hours?  Would this poor slob in the stall next door appreciate Frank’s hard work?  No.  He wouldn’t let the universe win this time.  He couldn’t allow it to mock him with its upside-down toilet paper and connected stalls.  It was time to fight back.  In an act of civil disobedience on behalf of toilet paper all across this great nation, he freed it from the unjust sentence imposed.  Frank stole the toilet paper.

Both rolls securely tucked beneath his arms, Frank stuck his face through the hole between the stalls.  The man next door jumped, nearly falling off of the throne and onto the dreaded hell of men’s room floor below.  “Toilet paper thief!” Frank screamed through the passageway in triumph.  His song of victory reverberating throughout the stall, he shot up and bolted for the door, fly undone and toilet paper streaming from his arms.  He heard the faint voice trailing behind him and echoing gently off of the powder blue bathroom tile, “what the hell?”