As I walk to the bathroom I pray that it will be empty. There are few things I hate more in life than shitting with others, especially in this bathroom with only two stalls, where the silence magnifies every noise. I round the corner, and to my horror, I find I will not be alone. Dan, the stupid jock who sits on the opposite side of the floor, greets me as he is opening the door. The newspaper underneath his arm tells me he will also be taking a shit.          

            “Yo Mike. What’s going on, man?”

            “How’s it going, Dan?”

            “Not bad. I’m about to crap my pants if I don’t get to the toilet though.”

            I try to laugh. He holds the door open and then walks to the stall I wanted, the handicapped one.

            He slams the door shut, and before I can even lock the door to my stall, I hear what sounds like a monster letting loose explosive diarrhea.

            “Whoa! Excuse me!” He laughs loudly. “This high fiber diet pays off man.”

            “It sounds like it,” I say, trying to hide my revulsion.

            I am straining, desperately trying to shit, but I am unable to. My stomach feels like it contains a basketball. I feel like I am pregnant with feces. The silence is unbearable. I am embarrassed. My self-consciousness overwhelms me. I wonder if Dan thinks I am crazy for just sitting here doing nothing.

            He farts again. The stench is worse than Terri’s perfume. I feel like gagging. He grunts. I hear another splash. “Damn, that one wet my ass.”

            I read the writing on the stall door, trying to focus on anything other than my failed attempt at shitting. Someone has written, “Terri is a stinky whore,” on it in black magic marker. The only person I can think of doing something like this here is Dan. It’s like he senses I am reading the writing because he suddenly says, “I love the artwork in the stall you’re in.”

            “Yeah, I’m surprised someone hasn’t said anything about it.”

            “Oh please, no one gives a fuck about that stupid cooze. I don’t know how the hell you stand sitting next to her and that other gossiping load to your right. Jesus, man, management must really have it in for you.”

            I hear him tearing toilet paper. “Oh man, I almost forgot, congrats dude! I heard about the promotion.”

            “Thanks.” I stand up, realizing I am going to continue to get more constipated until I take a laxative.

            “This psyllium husk works awesome,” Dan says. “You barely even have to wipe your ass after you shit. It gives you a perfect shit every time.” He flushes the toilet.

            I flush mine. We both grab one of the two sinks in the restroom.

            Dan wets his hands for about a second, and then grabs a few paper towels. “Yo, dude! We should go out and celebrate tonight. What are you up to after work? You doing anything?”

            “I don’t know,” I say. I grab some paper towels. “Is Eileen away or something?” I ask this because the only time Dan asks me to do something is when his wife and son are away.

            “Yeah, they’re staying with her parents, down in Ocean City.”

            We walk out of the bathroom. “What did you have in mind?”

            He looks around to make sure no one is in the hallway. “What about going to a strip club?”

            “Are you serious?”

            “Yeah, I’m fucking serious! Come on. It will be the perfect way to celebrate.”

            I think about it. I am curious because I have never been to a strip club. I am bored and depressed and maybe a little bit of fun to help clear my mind and escape this fucking miserable work life will help me feel better. “Where at?”

            “Down on Delaware Avenue. It’s called The Dollhouse. Man, I’ve been there before. The women are fucking incredible. Every one of them. Perfect tens.”

            “What time?”

            “I don’t know. Maybe around eight or nine? What do you say?”

            Terri walks out of the office door and makes her way to the restroom.

            “How’s it going, Terri?” Dan smiles wide.

            “Oh, it’s going, Dan.” She smiles back. “It’s going.”

            Dan waits for her to get inside the restroom. “Fucking bitch! Well, what do ya say? Are we on for tonight or not?”

            “Sure, do you want to meet there?”

            “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll see you at eight-thirty. Is that cool?”

            “Alright, sounds good. See you tonight.”

            “Later.”

            I walk back into the office and make my way to my desk. I still have to shit horribly, but at least I have something to look forward to now.

            Thanks for coming up with such a great idea, Dan. Really, we should shit together more often.