Posted by: nastypen | January 5, 2008

This is Why Men Shouldn’t Talk in the Washroom

Blas and I met accidentally at Glorietta today. I just murdered my resolution of not buying more books. Blas was telling me how he absorbed the spirits of his dearly departed then my stomach churned into a nasty cauldron. I had to go. Like Number 1 and Number 2. So, beads of sweat formed on my brow as i was concentrating towards the men’s room.

When we got there, I immediately went into a cubicle. As I unzipped my pants, Blas retorted “Oh my God! I can smell what you ate from here!” I paused and stammered, “What?!” Blas went on in a loud voice, “I can tell what you ate from your fart all the way here!” If I weren’t in such a discomfort, I’d have stuck my head out and screamed at him but I calmly said, “Blas, I haven’t even begun.”

Blas paused, “Well, somebody here farted.” The whole comfort room was silent and the other men in the cubicles shuffled nervously.

Oh Jesus. It’s the men’s room. What do you expect? The smell of spring lillies?

Blas went on and on about why there is no perfume in the mall’s pay lounge when they used to have one for the customers. Blas was bitching about cost-cutting and sacrificing the good scent. Then a small child was talking to his dad in a high-pitched voice, “Daddy, is this where the little boys make weewee?”

I wanted to say, “Yup, sonny boy, smell the farts, can’t you tell?”  But I was too busy concentrating…..


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