So I was just in the growler rolling a deuce, like I do. Naturally, I was in the crippled stall since it affords me all the necessities including but not limited to the space I need for my pre-deuce squat thrusts. As I went about my business I occupied myself by sending SMS messages to James St. James ("I'm taking a shit, dawg", "it totally reeks in here, dawg", etc.). Anyway, just as I was about ready to begin cleanup activities the outer door to the restroom facilities opened. Terrified, I immediately froze and began slowing down my pulse and thus my breathing so as to try and attain absolute silence.
I really don't want or need to go into all the details of bathroom etiquette, they've been discussed at length on the website in the past, but I will say that there is absolutely not one single thing good that can come from someone finding out you're locked in a stall when they come by that information due to a noise emanating from you. Ideally, someone looks under the stall doors, sees feet and quietly leaves the restroom. You get someone in the bathroom with you that doesn't have the decency to check for another individual's feet under a stall door and you have a potential problem on your hands. If they're really the type of person who is willing to roll into a bathroom with someone in there already taking a shit then the chances that they are also the type of person to kick in your stall door and stab you in the face with a shiv are very high indeed. Thus, remaining absolutely silent in such a situation is imperative to a gentleman's survival.
Back to the story. So a jimmy strolls into the bathroom, a bathroom occupied by me. My skills are so fucking honed that at this point I had slowed my heart rate to the point where my breathing would be completely undetectable by even the most capable of paramedics. The jimmy went strait into the non-crippled or "normy" stall with enough speed that he most certainly didn't check to see if there were feet in my stall. I have a hard time understanding why anyone would intentionally choose the "normy" stall. I mean, where the fuck is the room for your sit-ups and leg lifts? Regardless, this jimmy was in there and I was running through various courses of actions such as a preemptive strike on him or just bursting through my stall door, shit-ass and all, and hoping I could make it out of the bathroom before being shived in the kidneys by this fucking baby-eater next to me. Suddenly, just as the baby-eater was about to drop his britches, he paused and there was a long moment of silence. "Sweet fucking Christ!", I thought, "he heard something". My heart rate surged, and I sucked in a deep breath of air as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. I heard the baby-eater open his stall door and I prepared myself for the inevitable. They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, maybe I'm different than most but all I could think about was how pissed I was that I never got to see my dream of dudes throwing up in chick's asses put to film. I heard the baby-eater's footsteps and just when I expected my stall door to fly open I heard the restroom door open, close, and then silence. "What the fuck?" I pondered. Then I laughed the laugh of an innocent child watching a Care Bear bukkake party for the first time (Care Bear stare my ass, a bunch of bears shooting cum out of their chests onto various "villains" is animated and peddled to millions of children and I'm not supposed to say anything about it? They're fucking children for fuck's sake.). The baby-eater wasn't a baby-eater at all! It was just another gentleman, giddy with pre-deuce excitement who forgot to check under the stall doors, sensed the presence of another gentleman, and very politely and quietly left me to my reverie. Glory on high, someone else in my fucking office building understands! I almost teared up thinking about it but I was all relaxed once the baby-eater left which made me fart and I had to SMS James St. James, "I totally just farted, dawg".
I really don't want or need to go into all the details of bathroom etiquette, they've been discussed at length on the website in the past, but I will say that there is absolutely not one single thing good that can come from someone finding out you're locked in a stall when they come by that information due to a noise emanating from you. Ideally, someone looks under the stall doors, sees feet and quietly leaves the restroom. You get someone in the bathroom with you that doesn't have the decency to check for another individual's feet under a stall door and you have a potential problem on your hands. If they're really the type of person who is willing to roll into a bathroom with someone in there already taking a shit then the chances that they are also the type of person to kick in your stall door and stab you in the face with a shiv are very high indeed. Thus, remaining absolutely silent in such a situation is imperative to a gentleman's survival.
Back to the story. So a jimmy strolls into the bathroom, a bathroom occupied by me. My skills are so fucking honed that at this point I had slowed my heart rate to the point where my breathing would be completely undetectable by even the most capable of paramedics. The jimmy went strait into the non-crippled or "normy" stall with enough speed that he most certainly didn't check to see if there were feet in my stall. I have a hard time understanding why anyone would intentionally choose the "normy" stall. I mean, where the fuck is the room for your sit-ups and leg lifts? Regardless, this jimmy was in there and I was running through various courses of actions such as a preemptive strike on him or just bursting through my stall door, shit-ass and all, and hoping I could make it out of the bathroom before being shived in the kidneys by this fucking baby-eater next to me. Suddenly, just as the baby-eater was about to drop his britches, he paused and there was a long moment of silence. "Sweet fucking Christ!", I thought, "he heard something". My heart rate surged, and I sucked in a deep breath of air as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. I heard the baby-eater open his stall door and I prepared myself for the inevitable. They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, maybe I'm different than most but all I could think about was how pissed I was that I never got to see my dream of dudes throwing up in chick's asses put to film. I heard the baby-eater's footsteps and just when I expected my stall door to fly open I heard the restroom door open, close, and then silence. "What the fuck?" I pondered. Then I laughed the laugh of an innocent child watching a Care Bear bukkake party for the first time (Care Bear stare my ass, a bunch of bears shooting cum out of their chests onto various "villains" is animated and peddled to millions of children and I'm not supposed to say anything about it? They're fucking children for fuck's sake.). The baby-eater wasn't a baby-eater at all! It was just another gentleman, giddy with pre-deuce excitement who forgot to check under the stall doors, sensed the presence of another gentleman, and very politely and quietly left me to my reverie. Glory on high, someone else in my fucking office building understands! I almost teared up thinking about it but I was all relaxed once the baby-eater left which made me fart and I had to SMS James St. James, "I totally just farted, dawg".
