Squeezing the Penguin

Slapping the salmon.

Peeling the potato.

Rolling the dough.

Petting the Pomeranian.

Thinking of Megan Fox.


So I'm in the shitter taking a shit and playing Midnight Bowling 2 on my cell phone. I can't hit a strike, but by God I can hit a split every freaking time!

It's quiet, just me and Mr. Plop Plop and my game I can't fucking win.

Then I hear this tink-tink-tink-tink-tink from the stall next to me.

I listen for a second. Then I cough.

Tink-tink-tink-tink-tink-tink-tink-tink-tink. It's the jingle of the guy's watch, tinking over and over in steady rhythm.

I cough again, maybe he didn't hear me. I snort. I blow my nose.

Tink-tink-TINKTINKTINKTINK TIIIIIIIIINK... tink tink tink.

Ah fuck, I heard him splooge his wad in the toilet. You know the sound. You were teenagers once. No mistaking that happy squirt and grunt.

Fuck fuck FUCK I heard it.

He wiped once and stood up. You know the drill.

I wanted to bang on the stall and tell him to stop but I had a good shit going and I didn't want to give it up.

I saw him washing his hands. It's this guy about 60, white hair, Caucasian, pot belly, wearing a tape measure on his belt, one of our facilities guys.

Ack ack ack! Shit.

My girl said, Good for him. Impressive for a man that age to still be able to get it up.

I said, It ain't so impressive if you're sitting in the stall next to him.


- Saul