A Horror Story…of sorts


A Horror Story…of sorts.
It was a dark, scary night in a rest area somewhere in the California desert.
The man sat there.
The room around him was as quiet as a tomb. The occasional drip of water was almost keeping time with his heart beat.
He had been sitting here for hours it seemed. He had stopped here at the rest area for a break from the long, hot road.
Earlier he had stepped from his car and stretched and twisted to loosen his sore muscles. 9 hrs through the desert without much to distract him visually or mentally made for a boring…boring drive.” How do truckers do this?” he thought to himself. “They must be terribly virile and handsome to do this kinda job” 😉

He had removed the trash and stuff from his car that had been rolling around for the last 3 days. He stopped when he grabbed a McDonalds™ bag and looked inside it. He sniffed the bag. There were some loose fries and 2 Chicken McNuggets™ still in the bag. Couple days old? He wasn’t sure. They didn’t smell funny. They were marinated by some half-empty, discarded ketchup and BBQ sauce packets. “Score” he thought to himself smiling. He popped them into his pie hole, chewing them with relish (not actual relish, just the ….you know what I mean).

After chunking the trash into an empty can, he stretched again, yawning loudly. The yawn echoed across the open desert. He looked at the sky and stretched again, looking at the stars. He stretched so viciously that the stars blurred in his vision for a second, and he almost fell backwards. Mmmmm. Good stretch.
He scratched his butt, then his nards trying to decide his next course of in-action. He decided to take a nap…but screw sleeping in the car! He looked around and saw the picnic tables scattered around the rest area. He decided to camp out.

Grabbing his sleeping bag and back pack he headed for a table with a little roof over it. Spreading out his blanket and back pack, he climbed onto the rickety table and lay down. It took him a bit to get settled, but he was tired, it wouldn’t take him long to pass out he thought.
He came awake with a start. What was that noise? He listened. The only sounds now were crickets and a lone coyote some distance away. He listened for a little longer…heard nothing else and started to lay back. That’s when he heard the sound again followed by a sharp cramp in his lower stomach. Then a rumble and another cramp. Then the unmistakable feeling of his “back door” slamming tight to prevent unscheduled evacuation of un-needed material. This was followed by a new, longer cramp and noise..

“F***N McNuggets™!” he said out loud, jumping off the table…heading for the toilet. He remembered hearing somewhere that it was impossible to shit yourself if you’re running…he ran like hell! It kinda worked.
He barged into the bathroom…raced for a stall.
[Observation] Isn’t it weird that when you have to go really bad that as soon as your eyes behold a bathroom, your body gives up the will to fight…and stay sanitized?

He got to the stall just as all muscle control collapsed.
The sounds that came from that bathroom scared off the Boogeyman that was waiting just outside of the rest area snack machines. The roaches ran into the light. Bats flew into each other because they went deaf. Mosquitoes turned Vegan. It was nasty.
Things settled down a bit in the stall, and the man quit shaking and cursing. He relaxed and waited for the finale. When his bodies system alerted him that all poisons were deposited, he wiped the sweat from his brow and rubbed the stubble on his face. “That was close” he said out loud. His voice echoed in the empty bathroom.

[Observation] Isn’t it weird that all toilet paper dispensers are on the right side? What about the left-handed people? Isn’t that kinda like discrimination?
The man turned and reached for the toilet paper dispenser. He didn’t see any paper hanging out at first glance. He ran his hand beneath it…using his fingers to grope for a loose sheet. His eyes widened as his fingers continued to probe. He stopped.

No paper…
He continued to feel for anything promising…his panic rising. No paper at all!
The man sat there. He was stranded. He could not believe he had not checked for paper before he sat down. He listened to the emptiness of the rest area.
“Hello” he stammered. (Bathroom echo) “Helllooo” he said again. Nothing.
He was trapped by years of potty training and social stigma. There was no chance he was gonna get up off this bowl and look for paper. You don’t stand up with a nasty ass. It’s a rule.

[2 hrs later]
The man stood up slowly. His legs as far apart as the waistband of his pants around his ankles would allow. He had considered using one of his socks, but he was wearing sandals. He had even wished that he had been wearing a shirt! Now though…he had no choice.
He slowly pushed open the stall door a crack and listened. No sound. “Helloo”
He listened a little longer. When he heard nothing else, he crept from the stall. Waddling over to the hand towel dispenser he waved his hand under the electric eye. It whirred…nothing.

“What the hell?” he said. He couldn’t believe this. Weren’t these places maintained daily? He was gonna call somebody about this horse shit!!
That’s when he spied the trash can in the back corner of the bathroom. He winced. “Man” he thought, “gotta dig thru the freaking trash!”
He waddled toward the can dragging his feet, trying to keep his pants off the floor as best he could.
He looked down into the trash can. There was wadded up paper! He thought “There’s no telling what in the hell is on that stuff”…But he was desperate. He could feel that the “curing” process had begun.

He reluctantly bent over and reached into the can. “Oh my God” he said…he had gently touched a piece and it was damp! He jerked his hand back for a second. He tried looking to see if he could tell that any of this stuff was dry or useable…without having to put his hand on anything…without scoping it out carefully.

“Mommmeee…” a little voice said.
The man jerked upright, spinning around…almost losing his balance. He knocked over the trash can sending its contents spilling out over the floor.
With his pants around his ankles, the man quickly lowered his hands to cover Mr. Happy.
The boy stood there. His mother was next to him, holding his little hand. Their faces were pale, mouths hanging open.
The man’s entire body was flushed with embarrassment.
The little boy said “Mommy…he’s got poop on him”
The mother tugged on his little hand. She was backing out the door, raising the phone to her ear.

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