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scubatankfilledwithfartsShe isn’t nosy. If anything, she’s another bystander, just someone going through their day before tragedy strikes like a bolt of diarrhea. Such a bolt struck in the middle of her shift, consequently when the bathrooms in her building were out of order. So off she went two shops over, into the dark little mall hallway leading to the toilets beyond. Yes it went just fine, thanks for asking.
She isn’t nosy—but someone else comes charging in, a woman, in the middle of a pretty serious conversation too; from the sound of it the subject is an odd one.
“—I have this blink candle. It’s made from various people who blink. I don’t know how the corpses of other creatures didn’t deter them.” A man’s voice, bored yet alive with passion…for dead things? Sparks in his tone.
“What I’m not sure about is how you think that’s going to get rid of ants. They’re only smart enough to carry big morsels of food—their buddies corpses, back home.” The woman in the stall at the end doesn’t sound bored, but frustrated, like she knew that wouldn’t work—who wouldn’t? –and expected better of this man. Her man?
She continues, though, “And how do you even get ants in a sub? I don’t think a fart could survive in there, let alone bacteria and bugs with how sterilized it is.” Her tone isn’t impressed, and the statement is ended with the flushing of the toilet, further unimpressed.
“What’s that rushing water sound?”
The woman isn’t listening. She’s burst from the stall with a bang, and at least has the decency to wash her hands.
“It hasn’t stopped—“
“Just get Shachi to lay down some poison. I don’t think Penguin will eat it.”
“I still hear—” and then, so quiet she has to strain to hear something that sounds like—“...not tinnitus.”
“Anyway, tell me more about this candle. Is it anyone I know?” She’s right back to bright and cheery despite the dire situation of the ants and, as she walks out, her voice rises in pitch, in laughter.
Wow. Love is real and it’s alive and all around us when we’re taking a dump on company time. It’s amazing. Not awe-inspiring enough to text her ex, though.
She isn’t nosy—but someone else comes charging in, a woman, in the middle of a pretty serious conversation too; from the sound of it the subject is an odd one.
“—I have this blink candle. It’s made from various people who blink. I don’t know how the corpses of other creatures didn’t deter them.” A man’s voice, bored yet alive with passion…for dead things? Sparks in his tone.
“What I’m not sure about is how you think that’s going to get rid of ants. They’re only smart enough to carry big morsels of food—their buddies corpses, back home.” The woman in the stall at the end doesn’t sound bored, but frustrated, like she knew that wouldn’t work—who wouldn’t? –and expected better of this man. Her man?
She continues, though, “And how do you even get ants in a sub? I don’t think a fart could survive in there, let alone bacteria and bugs with how sterilized it is.” Her tone isn’t impressed, and the statement is ended with the flushing of the toilet, further unimpressed.
“What’s that rushing water sound?”
The woman isn’t listening. She’s burst from the stall with a bang, and at least has the decency to wash her hands.
“It hasn’t stopped—“
“Just get Shachi to lay down some poison. I don’t think Penguin will eat it.”
“I still hear—” and then, so quiet she has to strain to hear something that sounds like—“...not tinnitus.”
“Anyway, tell me more about this candle. Is it anyone I know?” She’s right back to bright and cheery despite the dire situation of the ants and, as she walks out, her voice rises in pitch, in laughter.
Wow. Love is real and it’s alive and all around us when we’re taking a dump on company time. It’s amazing. Not awe-inspiring enough to text her ex, though.