Since they locked the students out, it’s rare for the toilets at work to have anyone in them.
I’m working in administration, which means an office full of women and one fat gay bloke. While this means I do have to put up with the monstrous Brenda, it does give me free reign to express myself in the shitter. When I notice too late that there’s no toilet roll on the spindle, no worries! I can do a greasy waddle to the next cubicle, and wipe as much as I like with the door open. I have made unworried attempts to piss in all three urinals and all three cubicles with one bladderload. I could even use the sinks as a bidet, and swing my little legs cheerfully as I do so. It’s my playground. Even my toilet at home doesn’t feel so uniquely mine.
So this morning, when two of the three cubicle doors were locked, I felt a touch deflated. There would be no singing, no laughing at my own hungover sputtering, and certainly no rinsing my armpits in the sink because I’d forgotten to shower again.
I sat down and sulkily started to shit, and was vaguely pleased when one of the other people left. The third gentleman, upon hearing the door slam to, seemed even more pleased. From the noises that started to come from his cubicle, he also seemed to think that he was alone. The large toilet roll spindle rumbled far too fast and loud, and far too regularly. He even started to make little whimpers. You’ll understand that my every fibre was begging me to make an early crimp and lie on the floor, to see what was happening.
The only possible sense of the noises I heard were;
- He was wrapping the paper around his fist and speedily rubbing his anus with a vigourous to-and-fro motion, whilst preparing the other hand with more paper. I’d never considered a double-handed club-fist attack, so if this is what he was doing, kudos.
- He was simply pulling ten sheets off, screwing it up, and wiping at high speeds with a paper rose. The time between rumbles didn’t allow him time to inspect the muddy flower; he simply kept wiping regardless. Truly, this is a wiping madness.
By this time, I’d found the sound recorder on my phone, and can share the experience. Although I missed the best of the whimpers and rumbling, I’m certain you will enjoy the moment when he gasps “OH, SHIT”.
So, I had to check the toilet, and I’m pleased to report that my phone has a camera function, too.
Note that the man was so panicked that he didn’t even use the last pull on the toilet roll, or flush; so keen was he to escape what had just visited him. There’s only one solution – I’m going to have to use the chinese student’s computer to send an everyone email, asking who it was.
The only thing that haunts me about this story is… that could have been me. He didn’t do anything worse that what I do when I think I’m alone. I wonder if someone’s got video footage of me cleaning out last night’s wank in the sink?