Wednesday, September 5, 2012

The Four Stalls

I gathered every one of my books, shoved them in my backpack. I grabbed my papers that need to be workshopped and hurdled my way through every student.

I pushed my way through the aluminum doors and stopped breathing. Four stalls to choose from at the COAS building at Pan Am. Should I go into the first one that had a quart of urine on the toilet seat, into the second one that had torn and stained paper that was smiling at me from the toilet seat, the third that had a fluorescent light right above it but was flooded with crap, or the fourth that was extra spacious and away from any other potential butt hole ready to aim fire but had the oldest toilet seat that was permanently brown?

Fourth one it was! I went in and began panting, trying to get some air from under my shirt.

I was sitting down now, cursing The Cinnamon Toasts I had for breakfast when brown sandals came into stall number three and intelligently flushed the toilet. The murky water was splashing on the ground, onto his toes. "Oh, shit." However, he still did a one-eighty and pulled his brown cargos down... to the floor!


  1. Lol! Well written. I'm proud of you just because. Turn this one in as flash fiction too. P.S. I am so lactose intolerant, it's gross. As soon as I even smell milk...darn Cinammon Toast Crunch. Thank the Lord for Silk chocolate soy milk. Yum, I'm gonna have some right now.

  2. Mm. Sounds good. To the Silk Chocolate Soy Milk, of course. ;)