oh les toilettes

on public washroom symphonies

Ah dear reader,

Though I’m a troll,

I’ve found some who have outdone even yours truly.

You see, this summer, I’ve spent a great deal of time in public washrooms.

No,

I was not ‘looking for love in all the wrong places’.

My work was such that when I needed to leave a politician at the swirly porcelin palace, I had to do so in a very shared, public, somewhat pubic place.

With this in mind, I’ve come to discover some of the most masterful things you can do in a public restroom without baiting a single soul.

Today for example, I encountered a real power move.

In the stalls?

Two men were grunting out grinders.

They were a chorus of heavy breathing and gutteral groans as they gave birth to activists.

They sounded a bit like two bound up fog horns gagged with a codfish and tinged with brass clamp on their testes.

In short, they were majestic.

(I was there in the handycapped can, changing into my work shirt listening with delight as they literally changed the air in the room.

Soon?

The atmosphere changed when two more men stepped up to the urinals.

Their work was divine.

They began by hocking out some loogies, one at a time.

Then,

After a bit of jingling belts their junk was produced.

And as they drained the main vein, the noises of them were reminicant of a breeching whale.

They oohed and ah’ed and grunted with more gusto than the guys dropping grime.

It’s unusual yes?

It’s unusual for those whizzing wang juice to produce more noise than those dropping turds.

But that’s what was so delightful about the experience.

These men were free to grunt and groan in ways that were unexpected.

Sometimes, the unexpected in life can be as magical as a sunset.

Other times?

It’s as base as a symphony of turds.

But your experience of either?

That’s merely a choice.

Stay dirty you fools.