One evening a few years ago, I was having chest pain. I knew it wasn’t a heart attack, but it hurt to exhale, so much so that as a man, I caved to the idea of going when my wife suggested we go to Urgent Care.
Once there, I was seen, then told to go to the ER, which I ended up staying at for 6 or 7 hours. Apparently my pain wasn’t sever or life threatening enough to be helped right away.
Looking back at it I’m happy I was allowed to spend some time watching the weirdos. I remember one specific gentlemen who sat across from me, he may have been “special”, I wasn’t completely sure. Kept to himself and just seemed a bit off.
The restroom was off to my left, I was able to see inside every time someone decided to use it. I wasn’t trying to look inside every time but what else did I have to do? The gentlemen got up and went inside, I thought nothing of it, I went about trying not to move much. Some time had passed and then heard the door open. I looked over and noticed him slowly stepping out from the bathroom, and behind him was a crime scene of shit.
He murdered that toilet. There was shit all over the seat, and more running down the side of the bowl. I immediately told my wife what I saw and we laughed a bit. For me it was hard to do, my side would hurt too much to actually laugh, like I normally would.
For the next hour or so I watched around 3 or 4 people walk into the bathroom only to face the horror that was left behind. They would immediately turn right around, all wearing looks of disgusts. This became one of my few sources of entertainment and pain. I couldn’t control my laughter, and every time I fuckin chuckled, my sides burned with a deep pain. I would writhe in a mix of laughter and groaning.
Finally one of the janitors came by to clean it up, and ruin my fun. Damn him!!