Wrong Bathroom

You head into the bathroom at work, walk into a stall and close the door. Moments later, as you leave the stall, you notice two people standing there and there’s one major problem: They are of the opposite sex. On the spot, you make up an excuse as to why you are in their bathroom.

Post your response (500 words or fewer) in the comments below.

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491 thoughts on “Wrong Bathroom

  1. kaybee87

    “They put these men and women bathrooms so close to each other right? What’s up with that?” I dart out of the bathroom as fast as possible hoping they won’t remember my face. That is the last time I stay up late to watch some stupid Family Guy marathon. Is it lunch yet?! I know what I’ll do. I’ll just bury my face at my desk all day long with my headphones on; that way if anyone happens to mention my little mishap I won’t have to suffer anymore embarrassment. Before I could even get my headphones out here comes big mouth Judy. “Hey were you in the bathroom just now because someone was looking for you but I didn’t see you around.” Why doesn’t she just say it a little bit louder so the whole office can hear? She’s going to blow my cover. “No Judy I was just at the printer. I guess you didn’t see me.” “Well are you sure?” she says “because I can see the printer from here.” “What do you need Judy?” “Oh never mind I took care of it.” Then go away I thought! If her uncle wasn’t the boss I wouldn’t even give her the time of day. Come to think of it if her uncle wasn’t the boss she probably wouldn’t be here still.

    Lunch has really come and gone today. It’s amazing how fast the day can go when you actually work. Just one more hour and I’m home free. Yes! People in this office love to gossip more than anything so I’m glad I won’t be the topic of discussion after all. A few of us gather at the door around 5pm and we all begin to walk out together. Another hard day of work and we have earned our freedom. I can finally relax. We’re all busy talking about getting home and speeding out of the parking lot. Then I see someone walking towards us and I’m thinking, wrong way buddy. Always visit the little boys or girls room 30 minutes prior to quitting time. Why are we stopping? “Hey it’s you. Me and Josh were really taken aback when you came out of that stall earlier. We almost thought we were in the wrong place.” Everyone looks back at me trying to figure out what he’s talking about. It’s ok. I’m prepared for this. I am a trained professional. Not only did I graduate at the top of my class but I fought off that lunch money stealing bully everyone hated in 4th grade. This is a piece of cake. I walked right up to this jerk and said “Hey, I made a mistake. Sue me.” I then gave this really fake laugh at the top of my lungs as if I wasn’t terrified of this very moment the entire day. They all bought it thank God. He who laughs first, wins.

  2. kaybee87

    “They put these men and women bathrooms so close to each other right? What’s up with that?” I dart out of the bathroom as fast as possible hoping they won’t remember my face. That is the last time I stay up late to watch some stupid Family Guy marathon. Is it lunch yet?! I know what I’ll do. I’ll just bury my face at my desk all day long with my headphones on; that way if anyone happens to mention my little mishap I won’t have to suffer anymore embarrassment. Before I could even get my headphones out here comes big mouth Judy. “Hey were you in the bathroom just now because someone was looking for you but I didn’t see you around.” Why doesn’t she just say it a little bit louder so the whole office can hear? She’s going to blow my cover. “No Judy I was just at the printer. I guess you didn’t see me.” “Well are you sure?” she says “because I can see the printer from here.” “What do you need Judy?” “Oh never mind I took care of it.” Then go away I thought! If her uncle wasn’t the boss I wouldn’t even give her the time of day. Come to think of it if her uncle wasn’t the boss she probably wouldn’t be here still.
    Lunch has really come and gone today. It’s amazing how fast the day can go when you actually work. Just one more hour and I’m home free. Yes! People in this office love to gossip more than anything so I’m glad I won’t be the topic of discussion after all. A few of us gather at the door around 5pm and we all begin to walk out together. Another hard day of work and we have earned our freedom. I can finally relax. We’re all busy talking about getting home and speeding out of the parking lot. Then I see someone walking towards us and I’m thinking, wrong way buddy. Always visit the little boys or girls room 30 minutes prior to quitting time. Why are we stopping? “Hey it’s you. Me and Josh were really taken aback when you came out of that stall earlier. We almost thought we were in the wrong place.” Everyone looks back at me trying to figure out what he’s talking about. It’s ok. I’m prepared for this. I am a trained professional. Not only did I graduate at the top of my class but I fought off that lunch money stealing bully everyone hated in 4th grade. This is a piece of cake. I walked right up to this jerk and said “Hey, I made a mistake. Sue me.” I then gave this really fake laugh at the top of my lungs as if I wasn’t terrified of this very moment the entire day. They all bought it thank God. He who laughs first, wins.

  3. kaybee87

    “They put these men and women bathrooms so close to each other right? What’s up with that?” I dart out of the bathroom as fast as possible hoping they won’t remember my face. That is the last time I stay up late to watch some stupid Family Guy marathon. Is it lunch yet?! I know what I’ll do. I’ll just bury my face at my desk all day long with my headphones on; that way if anyone happens to mention my little mishap I won’t have to suffer anymore embarrassment. Before I could even get my headphones out here comes big mouth Judy. “Hey were you in the bathroom just now because someone was looking for you but I didn’t see you around.” Why doesn’t she just say it a little bit louder so the whole office can hear? She’s going to blow my cover. “No Judy I was just at the printer. I guess you didn’t see me.” “Well are you sure?” she says “because I can see the printer from here.” “What do you need Judy?” “Oh never mind I took care of it.” Then go away I thought! If her uncle wasn’t the boss I wouldn’t even give her the time of day. Come to think of it if her uncle wasn’t the boss she probably wouldn’t be here still.
    Lunch has really come and gone today. It’s amazing how fast the day can go when you actually work. Just one more hour and I’m home free. Yes! People in this office love to gossip more than anything so I’m glad I won’t be the topic of discussion after all. A few of us gather at the door around 5pm and we all begin to walk out together. Another hard day of work and we have earned our freedom. I can finally relax. We’re all busy talking about getting home and speeding out of the parking lot. Then I see someone walking towards us and I’m thinking, wrong way buddy. Always visit the little boys or girls room 30 minutes prior to quitting time. Why are we stopping? “Hey it’s you. Me and Josh were really taken aback when you came out of that stall earlier. We almost thought we were in the wrong place.” Everyone looks back at me trying to figure out what he’s talking about. It’s ok. I’m prepared for this. I am a trained professional. Not only did I graduate at the top of my class but I fought off that lunch money stealing bully everyone hated in 4th grade. This is a piece of cake. I walked right up to this jerk and said “Hey, I made a mistake. Sue me.” I then gave this really fake laugh at the top of my lungs as if I wasn’t terrified of this very moment the entire day. They all bought it thank God. He who laughs first, wins.

  4. Chainsaw Dreams

    Okay so here’s what I have… It’s pretty bad so I can’t really say enjoy. Anywho…

    Imaginary Ferrets:

    So a thirty ounce soda and a twenty ounce blatter didn’t mix very well, did you know that? I learned that the hard way. I had only five minutes left on my lunch break. That was enough time to get from the third floor break room to the second floor bathroom (it was the only bathroom the janitors clean besides the executive bathrooms for whatever reason).
    I scooped up my trash and deposited it in the nearest trash can before I began my journey up a flight of stairs (or my work out for the day I like to call it). By the time I got there I only had four minutes left.
    I rushed into the bathroom and nearly ran over my boss. My boss?
    I looked up at him (he was a good 6 inches taller) and sure enough it was my boss…
    What was he doing in the girls bathroom?
    I took a look around the bathroom and noticed the weird boy toilets lined against the wall. I looked back up at my boss and he stared down at me. There was a flushing noise and John came out of a stall, tucking in his shirt. When he saw me he jumped.
    “What on heavens are you doing in the mens restroom, Amy?” John asked me. I looked around again. What was I suppose to tell them? I was in a rush to go to the bathroom and so I accidently ran into the guys room? Yeah right. So instead I said the first thing that came to mind.
    “Ferret!” I exclaimed. They gave me a puzzled look.
    “Ferret?” The boss asked.
    Of all things why ferret? I mentally kicked myself. Too late to go back; I had to role with the flow (Which reminded me that I still had to go to the bathroom).
    “Um, yeah,” I said looking around the bathroom, “I’m chasing a ferret. I saw him run in here.” John looked around the bathroom and the boss gave me a skeptical look.
    “I see no ferret.” John said. I shrugged my shoulders.
    “Maybe he ran back out,” I said. “Well then I have to go. Find the ferret. That I was chasing…”
    I turned around and left before they had a chance to say anything else (though I did hear the boss mutter under his breath about imaginary ferrets).
    I returned to my desk.
    I still had to go to the bathroom.
    “All of this because of a stupid soda.”

  5. Miles132

    After a relieving two minutes inside the stall of this bathroom, I knew it was not yet the time to start patting myself on the back for managing to get inside the women’s bathroom. I still had to wash my hands and get back to my desk as soon as possible. Immediately upon pulling up my zipper and opening the stall door to leave, my coworkers Pamela and Lynn stared at me with surprised expressions on their faces.
    “Miles, why in the world are you in this bathroom?” Pamela asked. I have been working at this place for only two weeks, and I am already establishing myself as the “weird guy at work” as I have been at my previous jobs. In order to retain even the least bit of dignity, I knew I had to come up with an intelligent and respectable excuse.
    “Well, Pamela and Lynn,” I charmingly began my tale, “it probably appears that I’m here for some stupid reason like not being able to read the sign outside the door that says ‘women’, but I promise you both that I came here and used this restroom on purpose. You see, in addition to working here, I am also a part-time student at a night school, and because I have an interest in understanding the perspectives of other types of people, I am currently enrolled in a Women’s Studies course. As the only male student in the class, I find it very difficult to emphasize with my professor and classmates whenever an issue in women’s history is brought up in a lecture. Though I participate in class discussions and do very well on my homework assignments and tests, I still cannot fully understand what it is like to be a woman. So I took initiative and made changes to my lifestyle, such as spending at least three hours at a department store browsing through aisles of shirts, practicing screaming at a high pitch, and, as you have just witnessed, using the women’s bathroom. I am well aware that you may find my actions odd, but I am really doing this to understand you people better so that I can be immersed in womanhood and become a better citizen of this diverse world. So why don’t we just forget about the awkwardness and take ten selfies in front of the bathroom mirror?”
    Annoyed and offended by my frequent remarks of women stereotypes, Pamela punched me with so much force that I fell to the ground. Lynn leaned over to me and asked, “You just couldn’t stand the smell of the men’s bathroom, right?”
    “Yes.”

  6. GrahamDowns

    I do a monthly writing prompt on my blog, and chose this prompt for July 2014 (See the blog post at http://www.grahamdowns.co.za/2014/07/ever-been-in-wrong-bathroom.html). Here’s my story:

    I pulled up my pants, turned, and pressed down on the toilet handle. The water rushed satisfyingly from the cistern into the bowl. As I placed my hand on the lock, I heard voices. While this would normally not be a problem, I noticed with horror that they were women’s voices!
    Oh crap, I thought (and excuse the pun), I must have turned right instead of left! At four in the afternoon, it had been a long day, and I must not have been thinking clearly.
    I decided that maybe if I kept completely quiet, they wouldn’t notice me.
    “Sarah? Is that you?”
    It was Lucy, one of the sales ladies. She was probably with Marie. They must have arrived back at the office late, after visiting a client.
    “No, it-it’s John,” I stammered, realising that the jig was up and I’d only make a bigger fool of myself if I kept quiet now.
    This time, Marie answered. “John? My word, what are you doing in the ladies’ bathroom? Get out here!”
    Slowly, I turned the lock on the door, pulled it open, and stepped out. I could feel my face hot with embarrassment, certain that I was blushing. The women had their hands on their hips, staring at me expectantly with smirks on their faces, obviously trying hard not to burst out in fits of uncontrollable laughter.
    “Well?” said Lucy.
    Well, indeed. What was I to say? Should I tell the truth, that I’d just been on auto-pilot and entered the wrong door? No, I decided—that would just expose me to more ridicule. I had to think quick.
    “I-I thought there was nobody left in the office,” I said. “There is no toilet paper in the men’s, and I figured there’d be no harm in using some of yours. I’m really sorry!” I was slowly turning towards the exit, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible (I could wash my hands next door, in the right bathroom), but also not wanting to appear rude by running away.
    “Shoo-wee!” exclaimed Marie. “John, don’t you spray when you finish? What on earth have you been eating?”
    I’m sure my face turned an even deeper shade of red than it already had been. Mumbling an apology, I turned back toward the stall and reached in to grab the can of air-freshener. The women laughed as I lifted it in the air and pressed the nozzle down for three seconds.
    After they had composed themselves, Lucy replied, “What do you mean there’s no toilet paper? I saw Tabs going into both bathrooms at lunch time, with toilet rolls under her arms. She must’ve put paper in there, then. Why do you men use so much paper?”
    I smiled nervously. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess we do.” I walked closer to the exit, and turned expectantly towards the two, waiting for an indication that I could go.
    “John?” said Lucy. “Aren’t you even going to wash your hands?”

  7. Kerpa

    One for the Team
    Why did they have to put the women’s room so much further away from the board room than the men’s? One more step and I was going to piss my pants. Whatevs, I’ll be out of here before that windbag finishes his quarterly report with no one the wiser. This bladder control problem has gotten way out of hand. Maybe I should keep one of those she-wee’s at my desk. Stop picturing yourself pissing into the urinals with a she-wee before you lose your shit and someone hears you in here. Serious thoughts. How am I going to explain those over expenditures for my department?
    Cheryl?” Shit, those two Neanderthals from IT–Dick, appropriately named, and Ben. Why the hell weren’t they still in that meeting?
    “Lost, Cheryl?”–from the lesser asshole of the two. “It seems to me, you’re in the wrong parts,” Dick chimed in, grabbing his crotch on “parts” for emphasis.
    “Lost, no, I’m definitely not lost,” I stammered, flipping my hair over my shoulder while I straightened my posture to regain some dignity. “I am, I am”— finding my inspiration—“protesting the lack of transgender facilities in this company. That’s right. It is simply unconscionable and I won’t stand for it any longer.”
    “Holy shit, Stevens, or should I say Steven,”–by this time Dickwad’s nose was nearly buried in my chest—“I never would have taken you for a trannie. I’ve had wet dreams about you.”
    “Eww, I could report you for that Dick, so back off,”–shoving him away from my chest.
    “I always said she was too technical for a girl,” reported the other fuckface. “She never needs our help. Now it all makes sense.”
    “Assholes,”sang in my head. “No, just—no. You’ve got it all wrong. I’m doing this for, for Paula.”
    “Paula, that chic is hot. What’s she got to do with this?” Shit-for-brains was on the defensive.
    “Well, she needs all the support she can get since the,” clearing my throat now—“procedure.” I cannot believe I am doing this to my best friend.
    “I mean she’s been trying to keep it on the downlow so you have to promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone, but it’s been a very difficult time for her, and I thought I’d show her a little bff support by rallying for trans-gender facilities.”
    “You don’t say. What a waste of a beautiful pussy.”
    “That’s downright poetic of you, Dick. You’re a genuine Shakespearean article.” “Asshole,” in alto this time.
    “How is you being in here showing your support?” Apparently, shithead had one brain cell left, and now he had me.
    I ran the faucet and started washing my hands to buy time. “Well, until such time that all of us can choose to use gender neutral facilities, I plan on occupying this facility. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to present my department’s budget.” And I was out of there free to pee where I pleased.

  8. celloaded

    Ah! One could only imagine the relief I felt at finally unleashing the polyphonic spree which had been threatening to escape through my pants and distracting me form work all day long. Feeling significantly less burdened, I sauntered out of the stall, brushing my hands on my pants with my usual air of dignity. That is, until I walked straight into the backs of two women who were hurriedly applying makeup in front of a cracked mirror.
    It was only a matter of time before they saw their noble, grandiose boss walking out of a women’s toilet stall. So, I did the natural thing any self-respecting male would do – I dashed over to the adjacent wall so I could blend in with the tiles. Unfortunately, this only resulted in me drawing more attention to myself, so before I could put Plan B into action (yes, I did have a Plan B), the woman on the right detected the noise my shiny Salvatore Ferragamo shoes had undoubtedly made. She did a double take at the unusual sight of her boss sprawled across a bathroom wall and nudged her friend, who joined her in gaping open mouthedly at me.
    I looked around my wildly before any of them could accuse me of anything unholy. I spotted a shiny, silver box on the wall with a label that read “25 cents”. My first reaction was jealousy. This was ridiculous! Unfair! Blasphemous! I made a quick mental note to bring this up with the senior supervisor in the next meeting. How dare these women think they could get away with a candy machine in their bathroom! We men didn’t have anything remotely interesting… bathrooms were only meant for a quick wee. No wonder women always spent so long in the bathroom – to stock up on their candy! And these women had the audacity to campaign for equal rights in work and all that balderdash when it is in fact men who don’t have equal rights! Forget about the glass ceiling for women – a more pressing issue should be addressed: Why don’t men get candy dispensers in their bathrooms?
    Amidst all my fury and outrage, I realized that my two employees were still staring at me, waiting for an explanation for why I was currently stuck against a wall in the women’s bathroom. On a whim, I pointed to the dispenser and sheepishly said, “I just wanted to pick up some chocolates for my MALE colleagues”. There. That would teach them a lesson. Inwardly fuming, I pulled out a quarter from my pant pocket and primly inserted into the slot, stuffing the candies in my pocket and prancing out of the bathroom without sparing the candies or the two ladies a second glance. Before the bathroom door closed on me, I heard one whisper, “I wonder who he’s gonna give that pad to?”

    1. Kerpa

      The ending had me laughing. This also reminded me of the time I caused a riot of women in the men’s room at a local bar because my husband came out to the dance floor with gum.” Where did you get that gum?” I wanted to know. Turns out they had a valet in the men’s room who gummed them and handed them a hand towel while the women’s room had no such amenities and was floating in god knows what. I was having none of that and neither were the other 10 ladies I marched into the Men’s with me. Thanks for the memory.

  9. Camdeath

    “The urinal in the mens bathroom was shooting water at me, not in an accidental way like some sort of malfunction, but in a deliberate way. It was aiming directly at me. I thought maybe this urinal has a mind of its own. I tried to get it to stop. I played chess with it and let it win, but still the spraying continued. I Sharpied love notes on its porcelain body. “ZH + PP 4EVER”. I made it a tuna sandwich. I cried and begged it for mercy. It continued to spray me. Finally after I was drenched in toilet water I had an epiphany. All my life I felt lost, until I realized I LOVED being sprayed with toilet water. It was the one thing I was missing in my life. Everyone thinks money will make them happy or a girl or a boy or religion or bla bla bla, but for me.. it was toilet water. I even put mascara on just so they urinal could wet my face and streaks of it would run down my cheek. See? Doesn’t it look like I was crying?”

    He laughed then, a hysterical laugh. One which could be interpreted as a laugh of joy or sheer terror, or possibly on strange day such as this, both.

    “Zack, Zack… the mens bathroom has been burned down for weeks. Don’t you remember? Mr. Arleo went mad and set himself on fire in there. The fire was distinguished in time but he and the bathroom were torched.. I think you were possessed by his spirit, he always hated you. Why did you go in there in the first place?”

    seemingly starting to return to his senses a little bit and feeling as uncomfortable as a pair of wet socks, which I was currently sporting, Zack thought about it an said,
    “I guess because nature called, and I answered. But nature didn’t just call, it beckoned, it demanded… and we all know nature is a malicious bitch, full of shrink wrapped shadows..
    “ok, Zack we’re going to get you some help. I’ll call the hospital and get you checked out. You’ve been through a lot. Just sit down, it’ll be ok”
    Zack sat down. One of the girls tended to him while the other called 911.
    “Yes, my friend here is delirious and needs medical attention. I don’t know what’s wrong with him but he might be injured or.. something. Zack Houser. AralCo.”
    the other girl was squatting next to him. “Zack, one thing doesn’t make sense… no part of that story explains why you were in the girls bathroom.”
    His eyes lit up and a grin cut his face.
    “because the urinal requires sacrifice!”
    Zack pulled out a plunger from under his shirt, sharpened to a stake at the end and stabbed the two girls. Blood trailed into the bathroom, where a low rumbling emitted, and all the toilets flushed in simultaneous excitement.

  10. SilhoueX

    this is my first posting so constructive criticism please! ^_^

    *Almost done…almost done… almost* I thought to myself, scrawling bathroom humor on the wall. The wall read, “Why are you looking up here? The joke is in your hands!” I chuckled lightly to myself as I finish wiping. My ass now clean, preen and pristine, I casually flushed the toilet amid whistling a satisfied tune. Satisfied from both having dropped the proverbial bomb on “Hiroshima” and from having left my witty mark on the bathroom wall. Immortalizing myself forever! Or rather until the janitor cleaned it off. I did NOT envy the guy to use this after me! It smelled like a 3rd world public gas station bathroom, complete with dysentery. But then, I can hardly blame myself. “All you can eat Taco Tuesday” at Jose Taco Buffet is not merely an advertisement, it is a challenge. As an American I must follow the time honored tradition of attacking every challenge head on!

    As I finished pulling up my pants I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye. The toilet! Rather than flush the poo was rising! I stared on in horror, praying it didn’t overflow. To my relative joy the flow stopped and the poo slush did not spill over. My generous application of toilet paper had rendered the pipes clogged and the toilet resembling a giant bowl of stinky chili.
    Hastily I secured my pants button and quickly exited the stall. Doing my very best to look normal and not to advertise the fact that I had just utterly destroyed a toilet. I made my way to the sinks not daring to look at anyone for fear they would smell my guilt. Washing my hands I was jarred by a sudden and surprised “Ahhh!” The sound distinctly feminine. I looked up to see big blue eyes, blonde hair…. And boobs! Her BFF stood by her. The look I have them was not one I would normally give to such beautiful women. Though, it was a look not unlike the one I had just given the toilet just moments before.
    The Blonde woman shrieked “What are you doing in here!! You sick perv!”
    Stammering like an idiot I explained sheepishly, “I’m su-su-su-sorry! I’m umm… I’m the umm… the umm… *suddenly struck with an idea* the janitor ma’am. I apologize I came in here to fix a toilet and I forgot my tools. I was just on my way out to go get them.”

    She Contended, “Oh yeah? Then why aren’t you wearing your uniform!?”

    “But I…”
    Her friend chimed in, “Yeah! And why were you just washing your hands like you had just got done?

    “I was just…”

    She continued, “And why is your fly unzipped?!”
    “I umm…”
    She screamed, “GET OUT! GET OUT YOU F%@CKIN PERVERT!”

    Screaming together, “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUUUUUUUUUT!!!!”

    Without another word I simply sprinted out of the bathroom. Stopping to gather myself I heard in the bathroom the sound of stall opening. Followed by, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! WTF!”

  11. EverLasting

    Oh poo. Literally. Just as Jake’s writer’s block started to disappear. He stared at the computer screen for a moment, then sighed heavily. His dead-line was in–he looked at my watch–about an hour, and he STILL had a few more sentences to type before he sent the story to his publisher via email! Did he really have time? Jake sighed again, glancing around. Busy day for the Library. Well, you gotta do what you gotta do. He stood, grabbed his laptop, and walked over to the Librarian’s counter. Thankfully, a good friend–and almost girlfriend–was acting as Librarian today. “Hey Judy, mind holding my laptop for me while i, uh, go browse the who-dun-it section?” Jake asked casually. She blushed and nodded. “Sure Jake!” She said. Jake winked, then took the round-about way to the bathroom. As he walked, his mind started to wander. “Boy, Judy sure is something! I think she even likes me! I really should ask her out….but not until my book is published….sure don’t want any distractions.” Jake thought. He finally walked into the men’s bathroom and into the nearest stall. What a day for spicy burritos.

    After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened and Jake heard the odd noise of….oh no. Stiletto heels?! He flushed and opened the stall door….to see two familiar, bewildered faces staring back at him. Great. Jane and Martha, Judy’s BFF’s. they stared at him. “Jake?!” Gasped Martha. “What are you doing in here?!” Yelped Jane. “Um….well….you see….” Jake pulled his shirt over his nose and spoke in a suddenly deep voice. “Umm….I am actually not Jake….I’m Teddy. The new Janitor that was hired last week.” Jake knew how lame this sounded, but his mouth kept babbling. “You see, one of the toilets backed up, and i, Teddy, not Jake, whoever he is, had to unclog it.” He said. The girls bewildered stares turned into ones of disgust and anger. Trying desperately to save himself, he kept his mouth running. “I happened to have just saved your beautiful stiletto heels from disgusting poo water, so your welcome for that, and you may thank me later. Uh, well, have a nice day ladies.” Full of embarrassment, he washed his hands and left.

    Long story short; Jake missed his dead line, was tossed aside by his publisher, was banned from the library, Jane filed a restraining order against him, and Martha and Judy never spoke to him again for a year. AND the burrito gave him diarreah for a week after. Also an anvil fell on his head today.

    —-

    Done. I yawned and stretched, and tapped the print button. Another newspaper funny-comic printed. “Nice work.” My boss said. I grinned. I love my job.

  12. Josie cat

    I understand I have a lot of she’s in this but here it is. Please give constructive criticism.

    “Beep, Beep, Beep,…”
    She slaps the alarm clock and drifts back into an uneasy sleep. Five years of loyalty she had given him, Five years wasted. “How could I be so blind?” She asked herself as she sat at her kitchen table eating out of the gallon ice cream tub. “Why did he cheat? Did I do something to drive him to do that?” she now had tears flooding down her face as she curled into bed.

    “Ain’t nothing…” rings her cell phone. It was Jean calling to see where she was. “I’ll be right there, give me five minutes.” She quickly got dressed, washed her face, and brushed her hair, applied deodorant and mascara. She dashed down her apartment hall and a flight of stairs out the doors to the blue Neon waiting for her. She quickly gets into the car and they drive away. Cheater, Cheater was playing on the radio; “chuh” she scoffed. “Would you mind if I turned it to a different station?”
    “No. I don’t mind” replied Jean.
    “Thanks” she pressed the scan button until it fell on an oldies station. They listened silently to the lyrics as they drove to work. Jean didn’t have to ask what was wrong; for Jean listened to her cry over the phone for three hours talking about the breakup. It felt like an eternity, for the both of them, to arrive at their work place.

    “Will you be okay, today?” asked Jean as they exited the Neon.

    “Yes, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you at the 1 o’clock meeting.” She slowly closed the door and took the stairs instead of the elevator. She wanted to wallow in self-pitty a bit longer; besides, she didn’t exercise the previous day. As she climbed the stairs, to the seventh floor, she had a sensation. She exited on the third floor and briskly walked down the hall to the restrooms. She didn’t concern herself with reading the gender signs. She just entered the first restroom she came to, made a beeline to the nearest stall; taking no notice to the two men. Two sets of bewildered eyes met hers as she exited the stall “What? Haven’t you ever urgently needed to go?” She washed her hands and left.

  13. hunjokittybunny

    Looking calm I walk over to the sink and start to wash my hands. looking to the side I would automatically assume the two people who have been staring at me was wondering what on earth are you doing in the wrong bath room, so I proceed to talk without them having to say a single word. Man the woman’s bathroom is so backed up. Literally fancies are everywhere. The toilets are like volcanoes erupting every twelve minutes or so. Walking to dry my hands, I would hope they are making nasty faces and believing my story. The boss said they won’t be able to have someone come down and fix all the toilets till tomorrow. I’m glad the same thing isn’t happening in here man. Turns out someone from lower management had been pulling a prank on the women and thought it be funny, well he got fired and now we all have to use the men’s room till tomorrow. I would hope this doesn’t happen again, now the men wont have any privacy so be careful what you say laughing id walk out the door.

      1. EverLasting

        I’m not sure i understand whats happening here.

        More punctuation and more consistency, like Josie said, and i have a feeling this would be an entertaining story.

  14. Amala

    “Why are these two guys always staring at me”,I used to think. Their staring had worsened during the week. I was able to notice their long eyes from a distance gauging me , talking about me, from the corner of my eyes, by acting as if I was looking at something on my computer. “Were they stalking me?”, I thought.
    I’m a neurotic , by nature and their behavior made me more anxious. Today too, they did the same. I tried to console myself saying that everything would eventually become fine. But, my body wouldn’t respond. It was the call of nature because of my panicking.
    The restroom was over-packed, that just like my bladder. Unable, to wait any longer, I decided to use the restroom on the other side. I went inside, used a separate room , and relieved myself. “Something is not right”,something told me.But, my instincts were right, as I came out of the room, I saw the very same men, who had stared at me right there, staring at themselves on the mirror. ‘What at the hell’, I thought. “Have they stalked me, right up to the restroom”. I was shell-shocked and became petrified with fear. One of the guys, turned around and saw me. He too, seemed shocked. ‘Why are you guys stalking me’, I garnered some courage. The other guy too, turned quickly around and gave the same reaction. “I’m telling you, I can pull up this emergency button here and everyone around will know what perverts you are ,coming to a ladies restroom”. The first guy, looked amused. I wondered it was because I didn’t scare him enough. “I have seen you guys staring at me .Why are you following me”, I threatened them. They appeared confused. The second guy spoke, “Ha!!We weren’t looking at you, we were just looking at the release calendar behind you, the time we would send our code releases to the website”. The first guy followed, “I knew you would mistake us, but I had told him that we should have the calendar in our place itself to prevent misunderstandings.” “But why have you followed me to the restroom”, I asked cynically. They both made a head turn to the urinals present there. “Great!!”, I thought. I was the one who was wrong, I had accidentally used the men’s restroom, because of my tension. I sheepishly told them ,“Sorry guys, my bad, and sorry for the misunderstanding.”
    No one would know that it was the most embarrassing day of my life.

    1. usedname

      i feel like you could have just ended it at urinals. Its clear enough its a woman in a males restroom. It was an enjoyable story nevertheless! keep writing

  15. Tim

    It was early on a Friday for John to be at work already. He was standing over the toilet staggering a little. One final flush before he was going back to work. He watched to make sure the bowl was clean and checked his watch, 5:25am plenty of time to finish his work before the 8am meeting. Just before opening the stall door, he heard some noise in the bathroom. Quietly he stood in the front corner of the stall and peered through the crack. It was two women who walked into the bathroom. Now he was confused. Was he in the right place? How does he get out of this? He decided to wait and hope that he could get out without anyone noticing.
    He pulled his feet up and waited. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he did notice that one was Elizabeth from Accounting. The other girl he couldn’t place. He couldn’t figure it out. Why was there so much discussion? We are in a bathroom, but no one was using the bathroom. The voiced got louder and closer. He backed into the corner of the stall, and slowly picked up his feet. He could hear the footsteps slow like a dance moving toward his location. Then the door to his stall slammed. They were right outside, what was going on!
    John’s imagination was running wild. The sounds were confusing, but he came to realize this might be an early morning rendezvous. There was a lot of moaning. I could see their feet intertwined at the bottom of the door. Just then there was an auditable scream, and everything stopped.
    He waited and waited thinking that he could make his move to leave, but the legs were still at the front of the door. It was quiet, and then he noticed a small pool of blood forming at the base of the legs. Just then a lough thud!! John closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them Elizabeth from Accounting was staring right back at him from under the stall door, her cold eyes just looking back at him.
    John didn’t know what to do. So he quietly and slowly opened the stall door avoiding the blood the best that he could. Closing his eyes he stepped over the body. Now he was standing in the bathroom. All he could think was who was the other person, was he in the wrong bathroom, who was going to be next to come in and see, how could he sneak out?

  16. snuzcook

    THE GOOD STUFF

    The Cowboy’s Rest tavern in the small town of Medicine Hat had been redecorated back in the 1980s. Those were days of confusion when it came to genders and political correctness, which is why the signs on the restroom doors were reduced to graphic euphemisms. How do you tell the difference between a male cactus and a female cactus after a pitcher of beer and some questionable scallops? I was in no condition to ponder the question. I decided to opt for the one on the right. I seemed to remember that, more often than not, the Ladies’ was on the right.

    I pushed the door a bit harder than I meant to, and stumbled into the first stall. I managed to secure the stall door, and complete the complicated maneuver of peeling down my too-tight britches quickly enough to keep them out of the line of fire.

    I’d had such hopes for the evening. It was my first stand up gig in over a year. I had a new Justin Bieber boyish look that worked really well with my new material. I had been trying out my new stuff at open mikes at campus bars in Ellensburg and Pullman and it had gone over really well. Now I was hitting some small venues to get the kinks out before going back to the clubs where I might earn some real money. Tiny, the owner, served me the scallops with a straight face before my set, and I thanked him. The set went quickly, and it went really well. Frighteningly well. After the set, table after table of weathered old cowboys poured me beers from their pitchers.

    I heard the restroom door open and the shuffle of several pairs of heavy-soled boots. These women must be wearing some really clunky footwear, I thought. I heard a chorus of quick ‘zips’ somewhere in the vicinity of what I had assumed was a row of sinks, followed by some throat clearing, a fart and a trio of quick flushes. The boots shuffled back out the door. There was very little question that I had chosen the wrong door.
    As I sat, my clammy forehead pressed against the painted bricks, waiting for the battle of wills somewhere in the vicinity of my diaphragm to declare a decision, I started to laugh. The ridiculousness of my present situation, the euphoria of my killer performance and unexpected revenge of the seafood—all of it just suddenly seemed incredibly funny.

    “Is that you, Chris?” I recognized the voice of Tiny’s nephew, Steve, coming from a far stall. Steve had been present when I pitched the idea of me performing. “I thought I might find you in here.”

    “Yeah?” This stall-to-stall conversation promised to be the icing on the cake that was my night.

    “I just wanted you to know how much I enjoyed your performance. I knew you would be a big hit.”

    “Thanks. If you don’t mind me asking, how exactly did you know that? You never saw my act.”

    “Oh, easy. You’re the best looking cross dresser we’ve had here in years. You college boys can really do-er up right.”

    “Why do you think, er, how did you know I’m a, uh, cross dresser?”

    “Aw shucks, everyone knows no woman would ever perform here again since that incident back in ’08. We kinda got a reputation. Even now, I hate to think what would happen if the old boys thought you was really a gal here by yourself. They’re still as playful as ever.”

    “Playful, huh?”

    “Boys’ll be boys, you know. I bet you run into that a lot.”

    “Sure, all the time.”

    “Uh, Chris? Just a word to the wise. I would drop the feminine act now you’re off the stage. Bronco Bob was kinda eyeing you and you don’t want him to get too curious, if you know what I mean.”

    I thanked Steve for his advice, managed a convincing hawk and spit as he walked out, then hit the restroom door so hard the arms of the cactus were still quivering as I jumped in my car and left, spitting gravel. Safe with the smooth concrete highway under me, I laughed. I couldn’t afford to buy this kind of material.

  17. Insomnia

    Women think a urinal is a quick place to pee, but men know their greater purpose: they signal the male restroom. With no curved porcelain landmarks in the restrooms at work, I prefer taking my business home with me to avoid a mishap. Paranoid, sure, but before today it had never been such a pressing matter.

    By midday my stomach was doing its best rendition of a whale’s mating call. My options were to seek the restroom or throw away a good pair of pants. In my pressing state, I neglected to check the little tag that said men’s or women’s, but I decided the man waxing his mustache in front of the mirror was proof enough.

    This all could have been avoided if they had urinals.

    After my business began, I heard the familiar clip-clop of high heels against tile. I was amused that some girl might have walked into the boy’s bathroom like a middle school joke — and horrified that I might have walked into the girl’s bathroom, which was never a joke. Even in middle school girls gathered to talk about boys and cry and have their period, and as adults boys can be arrested for intruding.

    “Debra, stop,” Clarice cooed, confirming my dread. “You look beautiful.”

    “You’re saying that to make me feel better.” Her words were strained.
    .
    “Deb, I’m not,” Clarice countered, and from the crack between the stall and the door I saw a purple-clad figure sling her arm around the mustached woman.

    “Oh, come on. You heard what Derek said today.” She did a poor imitation of my voice. “‘Givin’ the mustache ‘nother shot, eh Debby?’”

    My stomach sank.

    “He’s a jerk. Don’t listen to him.”

    My phone vibrated in my pocket. “The meeting is a go,” Greg sent.

    “Everyone can see it,” Debra sobbed.

    I silently pleaded with them to leave. I tried to will them out, but they didn’t budge. I was stranded with my ass going numb. I fidgeted, trying to ignore the urgency my phone proclaimed as it vibrated once more.

    “Why would someone say something so awful?”

    And why the hell wouldn’t a company have urinals installed? They’re practically drains — how much can they possibly cost?

    “I know a great place we can go.”

    I couldn’t take it any longer. I burst out of the stall and yanked the faucet handle to drown my racing thoughts. They stared at me. I checked my face in the mirror. I could see how I would look for the meeting while avoiding their gazes.

    I turned. My eyes met theirs. I shoved my hands in my back pockets to dry them. “Deb, I am so sorry. You’re right; I’m a jerk. What I said was an awful thing. I’ll make it up, I promise. And I know, I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but they really need to have urinals installed.” I dashed to the meeting before my thoughts could catch up.
    __________

    My first time posting here. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. :) Criticism encouraged.

    1. SilhoueX

      *Almost done…almost done… almost* I thought to myself, scrawling bathroom humor on the wall. The wall read, “Why are you looking up here? The joke is in your hands!” I chuckled lightly to myself as I finish wiping. My ass now clean, preen and pristine, I casually flushed the toilet amid whistling a satisfied tune. Satisfied from both having dropped the proverbial bomb on “Hiroshima” and from having left my witty mark on the bathroom wall. Immortalizing myself forever! Or rather until the janitor cleaned it off. I did NOT envy the guy to use this after me! It smelled like a 3rd world public gas station bathroom, complete with dysentery. But then, I can hardly blame myself. “All you can eat Taco Tuesday” at Jose Taco Buffet is not merely an advertisement, it is a challenge. As an American I must follow the time honored tradition of attacking every challenge head on!

      As I finished pulling up my pants I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye. The toilet! Rather than flush the poo was rising! I stared on in horror, praying it didn’t overflow. To my relative joy the flow stopped and the poo slush did not spill over. My generous application of toilet paper had rendered the pipes clogged and the toilet resembling a giant bowl of stinky chili.
      Hastily I secured my pants button and quickly exited the stall. Doing my very best to look normal and not to advertise the fact that I had just utterly destroyed a toilet. I made my way to the sinks not daring to look at anyone for fear they would smell my guilt. Washing my hands I was jarred by a sudden and surprised “Ahhh!” The sound distinctly feminine. I looked up to see big blue eyes, blonde hair…. And boobs! Her BFF stood by her. The look I have them was not one I would normally give to such beautiful women. Though, it was a look not unlike the one I had just given the toilet just moments before.
      The Blonde woman shrieked “What are you doing in here!! You sick perv!”
      Stammering like an idiot I explained sheepishly, “I’m su-su-su-sorry! I’m umm… I’m the umm… the umm… *suddenly struck with an idea* the janitor ma’am. I apologize I came in here to fix a toilet and I forgot my tools. I was just on my way out to go get them.”

      She Contended, “Oh yeah? Then why aren’t you wearing your uniform!?”

      “But I…”
      Her friend chimed in, “Yeah! And why were you just washing your hands like you had just got done?

      “I was just…”

      She continued, “And why is your fly unzipped?!”
      “I umm…”
      She screamed, “GET OUT! GET OUT YOU F%@CKIN PERVERT!”

      Screaming together, “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUUUUUUUUUT!!!!”

      Without another word I simply sprinted out of the bathroom. Stopping to gather myself I heard in the bathroom the sound of stall opening. Followed by, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! WTF!”

    2. Kerpa

      I could really feel the awkwardness of the situation when Derek came out of the stall. Good job. I posted for the first time here today as well. Seems like a great space.

  18. Sophia K

    The workday ends at five o’clock.
    I bit my lip and solemnly glanced at my watch. It was only three o’clock, but I couldn’t wait any longer. My stomach moaned and my bladder ached. I yearned to be back in my small apartment in my nice clean bathroom. When someone in this office leaves their desk and heads for the bathroom, the opposite sex begins to chuckle. It’s as if I worked with six year olds.
    Could I hold it?
    No, I have two more hours of work.
    Could I crawl to the bathroom without being noticed?
    Pfft, yeah, might as well ride my unicorn there.
    Could I ride my unicorn there?
    Okay, maybe I’m the six year old in the office.
    I waited a few seconds, praying to god for an opening. Suddenly, a co-worker on the other side of the office coughed, catching everybody’s attention. I took this blunder as a signal, and quietly but quickly left my desk. I shuffled to the bathroom, awkwardly walking with crossed legs. I shoved the door open and ran to an open stall. The bathroom seemed empty, with all stall doors open.
    I took a couple of deep breaths to rid myself of anxiety and relieved my bladder.
    “Ah…” I moaned, quickly covering my mouth at the sound.
    I sat in silence for a few seconds, letting my body relax in my seat when the door creaked open.
    “I’m telling you, this girl…she’s amazing.” A masculine voice broke the silence. Worry began to rise in my heart.
    “Big boobs?” A man with a deeper voice asked.
    “You know it.”
    The sound of a high five led to silence.
    Oh crap, I’m in the wrong bathroom.
    I quietly ripped off some toilet paper and wiped. The sound of zippers being pulled and urine hitting urinals filled me with dread.
    I stood up and flushed the toilet. I took a few more deep breaths and stood next to the door of my stall. I heard the sound of two flushes and faucets pouring.
    Okay, they’ll be leaving, and then I can sneak out.
    I heard the door open again and prepared to sprint out of the men’s room.
    “Hey John. Tim.” Another man said.
    Fuck. Another guy. It’s okay; I can wait a bit more. I finished most of my work anyway.
    “John, Tim, Allan, hello.” Yet another man greeted.
    “Hey Rick, hey Bill.” The other men responded.
    Shit. Are they throwing a party or something?
    I listened as about a million other men came in and greeted the others.
    Are they even going to use the bathroom?
    “Okay, it’s okay, just say the truth.” I whispered to myself.
    I gracefully opened the door and prepared to explain.
    “Sarah? What are you doing here?” One of the men asked.
    “I-I-I…” I stammered, suddenly forgetting everything.
    “The lady’s room is broken.” I said, dying a little bit more with each word.
    I sprinted out of the room.
    “Yeah, I’m going home. Screw work.”

  19. resullewlar

    “Who cares?” I blurted out as I stood there. Two women at the bathroom sink were staring at me not saying anything. I ignored them and went to wash my hands. It wasn’t normal for me to act like this, but at the time I was angry… even though it really was an accident I was in the women’s bathroom in the first place. I got to the sink, got some soap, and began washing. It was a mistake to be so bold. A woman began to speak. “You should be in the men’s bathroom-” one was saying. She was about to continue but I interrupted, “Yeah, I know.” I gave both of them a dirty look. “I’m just gonna dry my hands and I’ll be out of here. Don’t worry.” Luckily for me, the only damned paper towel dispenser was right directly behind the two women. I approached them and said, “Excuse me.” I stupidly rushed this process of getting the paper towels. I quickly went for the towels as they moved away, but one was still close to the dispenser. When I was close to this woman I slipped on the floor. This was an awkward slip. Bad luck. One foot slipped forward, and I moved my left arm up quickly to keep my balance. As I moved up my left arm I hit one of the women in the chin pretty dang hard. She let out a yell of pain, and the other woman actually yelled at me furiously. It seems she thought I did this on purpose. The echoes in the bathroom were deafening. I stood there in sort of a panic, and knew I could very easily be in trouble. I struck a young woman, in a woman’s restroom, I was well above eighteen, and looking at the struck women, I saw she was bleeding out of her mouth. She must have bitten her tongue pretty badly. I decided I could stay and help, or I could run.

    “I’m so sorry!” I said. I slowly approached them, but the unhurt woman yelled, “Get back!” And to my despair, she actually yelled “Help!” I decided to run. I ran to the exit, decided to put on my beanie, and leisurely walked out of the bathroom. To my relief I saw no one in sight. I walked at a steady pace towards my car. I hurried a bit at the end, made it to my car, started the car, and made my way home. I got home scot-free. I haven’t heard anything of the incident since, but I try to avoid the area.

  20. mskruk

    Good grief. I hate public restrooms. I especially hate unfamiliar public restrooms. First, there’s always the immediate problem of locating a restroom in a dire situation. (Since I hate to use public facilities, I seem to wait to the last possible moment, when I am forced to find such a facility or pee myself.) Then, there’s the non-standardized methods of identifying which room is for which binary gender. What, exactly, is indicated by a cactus, such as I found in a small Tex-Mex joint on a recent road trip – a nightmare road trips are filled with horrible encounters with public johns. Once I decide that I first must label myself in order to avoid offending some Victorian style prude or Neanderthal in a restroom, and I decipher which symbol matches which binary definition of gender, I am then forced into a small room filled with – more small rooms
    .
    Yes, I believe the American system of building restrooms for public use is a disaster waiting for me to walk through the door and surprise someone. It might just be a plot. Nevertheless, I currently find myself facing just such a situation right now. I managed to locate the public facilities on the far right side of a massive and impressive lobby. I thank my lucky stars the doors are clearly labeled “MEN” and “WOMEN”. Now I have to decide which most closely matches my current presentation. Some days, I look more or less female and life moves on without too much trouble. But some days, I’m off my game. It’s a lot of work to unlearn all the trappings of one gender and relearn the complex social norms of the opposite gender. I get better at it every single day, I like to think. Unfortunately, my appearance doesn’t always reflect whatever aspect I feel I have improved upon that particular day.

    My calf-length skirt says female, but the growing “5 o’clock shadow” on my chin says male. I don’t see a mirror, so checking is out of the question. Dammit. I’m feeling all Amazon today. I’m using the women’s room.

    I enter the room, locate a stall and do my business – to my great relief, I go about it quickly, no stalls from my aging prostate. I wonder, again, if reassignment surgery would help or hurt my prostate issues. There seem to be more questions than answers in this process. I make a mental note to ask my therapist about it next week.

    Distracted by my thoughts on surgery, I exit the stall without thinking about whether or not anyone came in while I was in the stall. I’m muttering to myself as I walk to the sink and check my lipstick.

    “Who the hell are you?” a voice behind me demands. I turn and see two cis gendered females in the restroom. My number one fear in using public restrooms.

    Suddenly, my ovaries kick in and I toss my hair over my shoulder, smile sweetly and say “My name is Bernadette and I’m late for a meeting. Excuse me, please.”

    I walk out that restroom door feeling as if I were just crowned Queen of the Amazons.

  21. AlternateMe

    I’m new to this – I tried to post this earlier this morning but it never showed up? I thought I’d try again. I hope that’s OK:

    The Wrong Bathroom

    Twenty more steps. Just act natural. Fifteen more. Don’t look back. Ten. Smile at the bartender. “Hey, Candy. You on tonight?” Nod. Five steps. Slow down. Push open the restroom door, into the stall, slide the lock, and …

    Safe.

    She leaned her head against the stall door and took a deep breath. She reached under her shirt, felt the small box strapped to her stomach. Touched her blouse, felt the camera lens hidden in a button.

    Breathe in. Breathe out.

    “Take it easy, kid.” A voice buzzed through the tiny receiver in her ear. “Don’t pass out.”

    “Fuck off,” she whispered.

    Buzz. “I heard that.”

    Big breath. “I can’t do this.” Her heart beat loudly in her ears, almost drowning out the voice of the douchebag in charge of this nightmare.

    “Yes you can, kid.” He didn’t have to finish the thought. She could do it, because she didn’t have a choice.

    Two days ago, while she was waiting for the bus, two suits came out of nowhere and politely (their word, not hers) suggested she come with them for a little chat.

    Turns out that a little chat was fed talk for being locked in a room while two agents fired questions at her nonstop for hours before they got to the real point: The mayor’s son, whose body they found last week under the expressway ramp? They ID’d the DNA found all over him. It was hers.

    “The murder weapon, the knife? It came from the bar where you work,” Agent One said ominously. “All signs point to you.”

    Shit.

    “We don’t think you killed him,” Agent Two offered. “But we know who did. Help us take him down and this is over for you.”

    She told them they were crazy. They wanted her to get evidence on a murderer? And yet here she was, in the ladies room at the bar, wearing a wire and a camera.

    Another breath. She reached to unlock the stall just as the restroom door opened. Two sets of footsteps. She paused.

    “We’re clean on that hit,” said the first voice. Was that Reilly, the bartender?

    “Who knew the new girl was banging the mayor’s son?” The other voice laughed. “Couldn’t have set that up better if we tried.”

    She opened the stall door slowly and came face to face with Reilly and bar owner, PJ Maloney.

    “Sorry, guys,” she said sheepishly. “Still new here. Came into the mens’ room by mistake.” She added a little louder, “Did you get all that, douchebag?”

    Buzz. “Roger that, kid. We’re outside the door.”

  22. Jay

    I’d just finished peeing on the floor when the door opened. I felt like tucking my tail between my legs and running, but I couldn’t. I was trapped, and though embarrassed by what I’d done, I decided to roll with it.

    Two women entered the bathroom. One of them, a tall brunette, immediately looked at me and said, “Ew, gross. who let you in here?”

    I only stared at them. What could I say that they would understand as a meaningful explanation to my intrusion?

    “What are we gonna do, Terry?” The tall brunette said.

    “I dunno,” the even taller brunette said, “but we ought’a call someone, you think?”

    “Probably… but he’s just too cute to go all Jekyll on and get in trouble.”

    I wanted to say thanks, but I believed my silence would keep me out of trouble.

    The tall brunette walked over to me and began to run her hands through my hair. It wasn’t a strange or unwelcome feeling nor was it abnormal, but I still felt like one of them was going to turn me in. Run, I thought, but then the woman squeezed my face between her hands.

    “God, you’re just the cutest wittle thing!” The woman said to me, and then to her friend, “Let’s just leave it for the janitor. No one needs to know.”

    I licked her hands, and then her face.

    “Bar!” I finally said, and then chuffed and wagged my tail. “Bar, bar!”

    Apparently, I was in the clear.

  23. AlternateMe

    The Wrong Bathroom

    Twenty more steps. Just act natural. Fifteen more. Don’t look back. Ten. Smile at the bartender. “Hey, Candy. You on tonight?” Nod. Five steps. Slow down. Push open the restroom door, into the stall, slide the lock, and …

    Safe.

    She leaned her head against the stall door and took a deep breath. She reached under her shirt, felt the small box strapped to her stomach. Touched her blouse, felt the camera lens hidden in a button.

    Breathe in. Breathe out.

    “Take it easy, kid.” A voice buzzed through the tiny receiver in her ear. “Don’t pass out.”

    “Fuck off,” she whispered.

    Buzz. “I heard that.”

    Big breath. “I can’t do this.” Her heart beat loudly in her ears, almost drowning out the voice of the douchebag in charge of this nightmare.

    “Yes you can, kid.” He didn’t have to finish the thought. She could do it, because she didn’t have a choice.

    Two days ago, while she was waiting for the bus, two suits came out of nowhere and politely (their word, not hers) suggested she come with them for a little chat.

    Turns out that a little chat was fed talk for being locked in a room while two agents fired questions at her nonstop for hours before they got to the real point: The mayor’s son, whose body they found last week under the expressway ramp? They ID’d the DNA found all over him. It was hers.

    “The murder weapon, the knife? It came from the bar where you work,” Agent One said ominously. “All signs point to you.”

    Shit.

    “We don’t think you killed him,” Agent Two offered. “But we know who did. Help us take him down and this is over for you.”

    She told them they were crazy. They wanted her to get evidence on a murderer? And yet here she was, in the ladies room at the bar, wearing a wire and a camera.

    Another breath. She reached to unlock the stall just as the restroom door opened. Two sets of footsteps. She paused.

    “We’re clean on that hit,” said the first voice. Was that Reilly, the bartender?

    “Who knew the new girl was banging the mayor’s son?” The other voice laughed. “Couldn’t have set that up better if we tried.”

    She opened the stall door slowly and came face to face with Reilly and bar owner, PJ Maloney.

    “Sorry, guys,” she said sheepishly. “Still new here. Came into the mens’ room by mistake.” She added a little louder, “Did you get all that, douchebag?”

    Buzz. “Roger that, kid. We’re outside the door.”

  24. resullewlar

    “Who cares?” I blurted out as I stood there. Two women at the bathroom sink were staring at me not saying anything. I ignored their silence and went to wash my hands. It wasn’t normal for me to act like this, but at the time I was angry… even though it really was an accident I was in the women’s bathroom. I didn’t know I made this mistake until I walked out of the stall. I went towards the sink, got some soap and began washing. It was a mistake to be so bold. A woman began to speak. “You should be in the men’s bathroom-” one was saying. She was about to say something else but I interrupted, “Yeah, I know.” I gave both of them a dirty look. “I’m just gonna dry my hands and I’ll be out of here. Don’t worry,” I said. Lucky for me, the only damned paper towel dispenser was right directly behind the two women. I approached them and said, “Excuse me.” I stupidly rushed this process of getting the paper towels. I quickly went for the towels as they moved away, but one was still close to the dispenser. When I was close to this woman I slipped on the floor. This was an awkward slip. Bad luck. One foot slipped forward, and I moved my left arm up quickly to keep my balance. As I moved up my left arm I hit one of the women in the chin. Pretty dang hard. She let out a yell of pain, and the other woman actually started yelling at me furiously. It seems she thought I did this on purpose. The echoes in the bathroom were deafening. I stood there in sort of a panic, and knew I could very easily be in trouble. I struck a woman, in a woman’s restroom, I was well above eighteen, and looking at the struck women, I saw she was bleeding out of her mouth. She must have bitten her tongue pretty badly. I decided I could stay and help, or I could run.

    “I’m so sorry!” I said. I slowly approached them, but she yelled, “Get back!” And to my despair, she actually yelled “Help!” I decided to run. I ran to the exit, decided to put on my beanie, and leisurely walked out to seem innocent. I walked out and to my relief I saw no one in sight. I walked at a steady pace towards my car. I hurried a bit at the end, made it to my car, started the car, and made my way home. I got home scot-free. I haven’t heard anything of the incident since, but I try to avoid the area.

  25. undiscoveredWA

    Click, click, click goes the sound of the computer as my fingers dance along the keys as fast as they will go. Just one more paragraph until this essay is done. So close to the deadline that could make or break my career in the reporting business. I look up to the screen and back down to my fingers and my eyes blur.
    The clicking stops as I take a moment to rub my sleep-deprived eyes and then get back to work. But again they blur and this time everything becomes dark around the edges. Another quick break can’t hurt, can it? Rubbing my eyes again and then I take my hands away from my face I lift my head to look at my computer screen only I cannot see anything. Now everything is dark. Completely swallowed whole by the darkness.
    Bathroom break. I fumble for my bottle of eye drops sitting next to mouse due to the frequent need to rewet my eyes after staring at the screen of my computer and get up and stumble my way to the bathroom-still in total darkness- which I have memorized thanks to the food poisoning I had only last week when my boss insisted that I come to work.
    I push open the door and feel my way to the sink when I hear surprised gasps all around me. These were not low manly gasps, no, they were the gasps of women in disbelief and disgust.
    “How dare you!” one of them scolds
    “You ought to look where you’re goin’ sir,” another whispers. So there were two I concluded. Great just great, I can’t see and now I have two skeptical women-and rightly so- wondering what in the hell I was doing by daring to be in the wrong bathroom.
    “Ladies,” I said, “I know you must be wondering why I am here and I have a very simple explanation only it makes me sound as though I am an alcoholic without his constant glass of whiskey.”
    “Let’s hear it then,” sneered the women who had spoken first.
    “I believe I have gone blind.” After saying this, the words hit me and I could not control myself any longer and I broke down in tears.
    “Son, you are a lunatic.” Responded the second woman, which was followed by an eruption of laughter from the two of them.
    “I’m not lying ma’am. Please help me. Please, I don’t know what I would do if this is the truth.”
    Their laughter continued and trailed them as they slammed the door on me leaving me in the darkness.

    1. Observer Tim

      This is a very intense take, undiscoveredWA. I was drawn into the MC’s distress and confusion, and I can understand why the women don’t believe him.

      I am kind of curious why the girls didn’t know him; it must be a fairly large company, or he is fairly new on the job.

      1. undiscoveredWA

        Thank you so much for the input. This is only my second post and I am just beginning to really work on my writing.

        I like to put myself in the shoes of my characters and let the story roll so when I thought of the story I felt that the women shouldn’t know who he is so that it would seem even more odd to them. Now that you brought up that I point I imagine that the women work in a company a level up in the building and were on their way to work when they stopped for a bathroom break.

  26. smallPencil

    It looked all wrong. Felt wrong. The Feng Shui was off. Then I saw them.

    The one in the rear, a leggy blonde, sucked in a breath. Like a reverse gasp. The one nearer me, a squat Latina in a pant-suit, her hair pulled back, just stared. Her mouth was open ever-so-slightly, as though forgotten.

    I felt the blood rush to my face. I put up my hands. “I swear to God, I walked into the Men’s Room. I have no idea what just happened.”

    “Well,” said the squat one, “leave.”

    “I will. I just…” I walked to the sink and placed my hand under the soap dispenser. “…hygiene, and all.” I forced out a laugh. Two sharp claps. It had the opposite of its intended effect, adding more tension to the room. I dried my hands quick and rushed for the door. Holding it open, I turned around. “Look. Watch. Just stay there a second and you’ll see what I mean.” I left and turned into the Men’s Room. I remembered going into the last stall. I went back. I went in, closed the door, opened it, and stepped out. There was a scream. High-pitched and weak, it was more of an “eek”. It was the blonde.

    The Latina stared again, jaw forgotten. “How did you do that?”

    “I didn’t do anything.”

    With the blonde in tow, she rushed to the stall and looked it all over, as though searching for a hidden door. Then she left the bathroom. Moments later she appeared in the stall. The blonde screamed again (I was finding her to be quite inarticulate).

    “Anomaly,” whispered the Latina.

    Hearing that, I began signing “Anna-Molly”, by Incubus, “ ANNA-MOLLY, ANNA-MOLLY, ANNA-MOLLY. DOO DOO DOO DOO.”

    “Step back,” said the Latina. We did. She closed herself into the stall.

    “A CLOUD HANGS OVER THIS CITY-BY-THE-SEA…”

    She emerged from the stall a second later. “Doesn’t work both ways.”

    “I WATCH THE SHIPS PASS AND WONDER IF SHE MIGHT BE…”

    She put her finger and thumb to her lips. “Hmmm. Follow me.” She lead us out and into the Men’s Room.

    “OUT THERE AND SOBER, AS A WELL FOR LONELINESS…”

    She went into the last stall. It looked as though her body had become insubstantial along the edges, as though viewed with my eyes crossed. With one long, ruby-red painted thumb-nail, she carved a little crescent moon into the side of the stall.

    “PLEASE DO PERSIST GIRL, IT’S TIME WE MET AND MADE A MESS…”

    She turned around and began to walk into me. I flinched, but sung on. Before she ran into me she vanished.

    “I PICTURE YOUR FACE IN THE BACK OF MY EYES…”

    She came back into the room and pointed to the moon carving. “It’s in the Women’s Room, too. This stall exists in both rooms.”

    “A FIRE IN THE ATTIC. A PROOF OF THE PRIZE…”

    The blonde looked at her watch. “It’s 5:00. Time to go home.”

    “ANNA-MOLLY, ANNA-MOLLY, ANNA-MOLLY…”

    1. Observer Tim

      I’m not familiar with the song, but this tale is surreal and enjoyable.

      I can’t quite tell if they’re collectively trapped in the loo or if the anomaly just transports them from one to the other.

  27. mustangmare

    First time sharing anything I’ve written, but here goes:

    I finished my business in the bathroom stall, still fuming over the new hire. Why had Tammy had to hire my greatest high school enemy? I zipped my pants ferociously and flushed the toilet as hard as I could. One thing was sure- I was not going to let Lindsey ruin my career. I pushed the stall door open.

    My mind froze and I shrunk back. There in front of me were two men at the sinks, washing their hands like this was an everyday occurrence. What were they doing in the ladies’ room?

    I caught one of them looking at me in the mirror, a shocked expression on his face. I was too embarrassed for him too make eye contact, so my eyes darted around the room. That’s when I spotted the urinals. I groaned inwardly. How could I have missed them? Now I was going to have to explain myself.

    I straightened my back and masked confidence as I stepped out of the stall, wishing desperately that I could just disappear. Then inspiration struck. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Where have I landed?” I asked in my best Italian accent.

    The second man looked at me quizzically. “What do you mean? You’ve stepped into the wrong restroom by the looks of it.”

    I tried not the blush, but I couldn’t help it. I spoke quickly to cover up my awkwardness. “It seems my teleportation machine has malfunctioned.” I was inching towards the door, trying not to run. “I just need to know where I am so I can get back home in case machine messes up again and doesn’t revert in 30 seconds. In fact, I need to be by myself because I don’t know if it will take you with me and we wouldn’t want that.”

    I bolted for the door, exhaling only when I was safely on the other side. My only wish now is that I never see those two men again.

  28. margi33

    Warning: this is graphic
    And I apologize for not commenting on others this week… still on vacation and my phone connection is terrible
    _____
    I rub my eyes and glare from the windowed doors of my office building. One of these days I’m going to get myself into trouble working late like this . The city is pitch black and it’s five blocks to the metro. No-name bars flank both sides of the street. Their blinking neon signs seem to magically attract scum.

    As I push the doors open, I realize something. I have to pee. Damn, I should have gone before I walked down five flights of stairs. I know of a public restroom a few buildings away — not safe, but it will have to do.

    I step onto the sidewalk and quicken my pace. The glance of every passerby causes me to hold my breath. Ducking into the entrance of the restroom, I check my back. A sickly yellow pallor fills the small concrete enclosure. A single light bulb clings to the ceiling protected by its wire cage. One toilet stall sits several steps to my left. I hurry inside and thwack the lock into place. The slight sense of security I feel is probably misplaced.

    Hurry, hurry, I think. Almost done….relief is instant but short lived. I hear the exterior door swing and heavy boots thump into the dingy space. Two pair of boots. Shit.

    A man’s voice and the sound of a plastic baggie crinkling fills the space.

    “Bump?” He asks. His voice has a lunatic quality that I can’t explain.

    “Sure I’ll take another bump before we bump, ” another man answers while laughing nervously. Interesting. Two men? In my haste, I must have picked the wrong door.

    I stay very still and hold my breath. Maybe they won’t notice me. Violent snorting breaks my thoughts — cocaine. Could be bad, but at least they are preoccupied.

    “Hell yeah,” the first guy exclaims as he stumbles backward, his feet approaching my stall. Too close for my comfort.

    Another snort — the other guy probably getting his fix. Then long silence. The quiet makes my skin prickle. I carefully peek under the door. What I see makes me jerk my head back in. Wow. The two men, together – embracing is the only way I want to label it in my head, only they are dressed like they stepped off the set of Pulp Fiction.

    I peek again though I don’t want to. The lunatic guy is behind the other, but something’s not right. His hands are around the other man’s throat while the other struggles to free himself. A rhythm of grunts fill the air – one of pleasure, one of pain. Fear fills me. What can I do but wait and hope?

    Slipping off my stilettos a centimeter at a time, I decide to climb onto the toilet seat and hide my presence, but something crashes against the stall door. A head flops under the door’s bottom. A throat, slashed open, is smiling red at me. I stifle a scream as blood puddles on the concrete floor. The pace of my heart explodes.

    I clamber onto the toilet seat and change my plan. Stiletto in each hand, with heels pointed outward, I wait for the door to open. Everyone is right – my life scrolls through my mind like an old-time picture show.

    I will fight and live if it comes to that I decide, like it’s a choice.

    A lunatic voice fills my ears as it sing-songs, “I – can – see – you.” And the boot tips show beneath the door.

    1. Observer Tim

      This is intense and dramatic; graphic yes, but I was prepared for biological graphic and it caught me off guard. You set up the tension perfectly, and now I’m aching to know how it turned out.

      Great story, Margi!

    2. Reaper

      Holy crap! I was expecting more graphic and kept thinking, this isn’t that bad. Then I got to your last line and only when I jumped did I realize I had been holding my breath. The MC’s voice is perfect and that it was told in first person made it that much more intense. The ending point implies a very bad end because of the perspective. Your description of the lunatic voice was very nice the first time, then the repeat of it just made it so intense and perfect. Amazingly creepy and perfectly written.

      1. Kerry Charlton

        This isn’t my usual ballywick but the writing is so good, I was drawn into it. The end of your story has so much power to it, I wanted more. I have an idea from the MC’s self thoughts, she’s tougher than the reader realizes. Can’t wait for part two .

  29. Augie

    PSD, (Personal Support Detachment), Discharge from active duty desk….

    The Commander signs the request chit ‘approved’ and looks at the young man standing in attention in front of him.

    “Good luck son! Normally I would attempt to convince a warrior with your record to re-enlist. You served your country honorably. Just know when you hit the civilian sector, they don’t think like us. I can take you out of the war, but not the war in you. Well,…. Being 23 years old, there is time to get it out of your system. Thank you for your service!“

    The young warrior responds, “thank you sir”, and walks to the nearest bathroom. Did he need to relieve himself? Yes, the tears were flowing. He missed his brothers fighting overseas and wondered how they were coping.

    He sat, tears flowing, staring at his release document. Just then a woman walks in with her daughter. The small child is wearing her Sunday dress, fit for a funeral.

    The little girl cries….

    “Mommy, this isn’t daddy! This is a flag! I thought we came here to get daddy!”

    The mother held her child. “ Julie, daddy isn’t coming home, but he is here with us as we speak. He will always watch over us!”

    The young warrior walks out of the stall, startling the young mother.

    “What are you doing in here sir? Clearly you are in the wrong bathroom!”

    The warrior wipes his tears, “ Ma’am, I think I’m in the right one today.”

    The warrior kneels in front of the little girl, “What’s your name princess?”

    The mother gives the ‘ok nod’ to her child, “ I’m Julie sir.”

    “Thank you Julie, I have to go now. I’m late for my watch.”

    The Commander looks up from his desk as the 23-year-old returns and snaps to attention.

    “Sir, I need to re-enlist, now!”

    1. Reaper

      Heart breaking Augie. Your description of Julie is going to haunt me for a bit and the affect on your warrior is perfect. It is interesting that you touch on a fact that I came to realize a couple of years back. The way civilians respond to soldiers and soldiers to civilians once they get out is off. There is something about a warrior that separates them forever. They almost fit but just don’t, because they can never be the same as other people. Most of us respect them, love them, even want to help them slide back in to the round hole, but we will always look at them differently. I realized most people that are not warriors don’t seem to understand that, wanting to keep trying to make them part of us instead of meeting them half way and respecting that change. Your story made me realize that while we don’t often get it you guys might have that understanding as part of who you are. Musings aside, this is powerful and a beautiful description of how duty calls to those that will listen.

      1. Kerry Charlton

        A very touching story Augie. I may have the clue why it’s so difficult for the men coming home from the war. At the end of WWII, I was nine and I saw the soldiers coming home especially my older sister’s boyfriend.

        War was different then. A soldier knew his enemy, war exploded before our men. The battle for Iwo, makes that perfectly clear. The marines that landed at Iwo, wrote te story of war. If you haven’t read these book, do so. “Flags Of Our Fathers,” and “The Fly Boys.”

        They’re not easy books to read but they explain the horrors of war better than any books I’ve ever read before, including the stories of the Civil War.

      2. Augie

        Thanks Reaper. Every once in a while I like to write a piece that shows why humor is so vital to us. Thank you for understanding the difficult transition. Old warriors, proudly wearing their ball caps distinguishing their service can tell you hundreds of stories, but cant seem to remember where they parked the car.

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