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 in the floorboards 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.
He didn’t remember how long ago he had bought them….?
…..couple of days….?
They didn’t smell funny but how can you really tell with Mickey Dee swill?
They looked like they were marinated by some half-empty, discarded ketchup and BBQ sauce packets.
“Score” he thought to himself smiling as he popped them into his mouth, 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 smiled when he heard a Coyote answer him.
“Whaddya want?” yelled the coyote.
The man 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 and 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 the 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.
Later….at the bat cave….
He came awake with a start. What was that noise? He listened.
The only sounds now were crickets and the talking coyote some distance away.
He listened for a little longer…heard nothing else and started to lie back down.
That’s when he heard the sound again followed by a sharp cramp in his lower stomach.
“brrRRRmmmmPPpp”….
“peep…..shrrreeekdup”
Then a rumble and another cramp.
It was the unmistakable “back door” slamming tight to prevent unscheduled evacuation of digested material.
This was followed by a new, longer cramp and noise…
“Let mee oouutt”
“F***N McNuggets™!” he said out loud, gingerly sliding off the table…Muscle control was priority one just this second.
He remembered hearing somewhere that it was impossible to shit yourself if you’re running, Soo..he ran like hell!
It kinda worked.
He skipped into the bathroom with stiffened knees and a straight back …He ballerina walked for an open stall.
Focus….fooccuusss….
[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 all bets are off?
It’s almost as if the poo poo has a set proximity for potties. It’s off by about 3 feet.
He got to the stall just as all muscle control collapsed.
The sounds that came from that bathroom caused Jesus to become a Buddhist!
The roaches ran into the light!
Bats flew into each other because they went deaf!
Mosquitoes turned Vegan!
“And the cat played the fiddle and went hey diddle diddle and the cow jumped over the moon”
It was not right…..
After a few tensing moments 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 echoing 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.
“No No No” he whispered.
He hadn’t had time to check for toilet paper before making mud. He didn’t see any paper hanging out at first glance.
He ran his trembling hand beneath the dispenser…using his fingers to grope for a loose sheet.
His eyes widened as his fingers continued to probe.
He stopped. “Oh shit….”
No paper. He wasn’t even wearing socks.
Yes people….Now you know the true purpose for socks.
Back-up!
He continued to feel for anything promising…his panic rising. No paper at all!
The man sat there….drying.
He was stranded….and drying.
He couldn’t believe he had not checked for paper before he sat down.
You just assume it’s always there….like Oprah.
He listened to the emptiness of the rest area.
“Hello” he stammered. (Bathroom echo) “Helllooo” he said again.
Nothing.
The man 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…..or something.
[2 hrs later]
The man stood up slowly.
His legs were as far apart as the waistband of his pants around his ankles would allow.
Now though…he had no choice.
He slowly pushed open the stall door a crack and listened. No pun intended.
“Hellooo….?”
He listened a little longer.
When he heard nothing promising, 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!!
He began looking around the bathroom….
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 the best he could.
He looked down into the trash can.
“Eureka!”
There was wadded up paper!
Then he had a sobering thought as his elation waned “There’s no telling what in the hell is on that stuff”…But he was desperate.
He could tell 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 from behind him. No pun intended.
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 next to him, holding his little hand.
Their faces were pale, mouths hanging open.
The man’s entire body flushed with embarrassment. He almost went stinky again.
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, and a can of mace in the other.
“911…?”
Everything Hurts & I'm Dying 