I was originally going to post this without introduction, but after rereading it with fresh, sober eyes I figured I needed to open with something... Jumping right into a story that inter splices a little girl on the toilet and memories of doing blow in bathrooms without explaining why just sounds creepy. Not that it's any creepier even with it....
What follows is a glimmer into fifteen minutes of my Friday night as I sat on the cold, brown tile bathroom floor while my mind wandered down a dark bunny hole...
It All Happens in the Bathroom
Her voice is mischievous as it beckons me, calling from across the house as I finish getting dressed to go out for a few drinks and half priced apps... High living in the suburbs...
I enter into the bathroom, curly headed toddler bent over as she is seated upon the throne.
"I fart daddy... Smell..." She says, slightly giggling at her comic genius.
I take a few exaggerated breathes at the door, faux gagging as I breathe in the toxic air.
"No daddy... Smell..." She says, pointing at the floor in front of her.
"I gotta get dressed, kid." I reply, trying to figure out where exactly I had left my Birkenstocks last time I had used them.
"No, you gotta smmeeeeelllllll....." She says, pointing again at the ground.
Seeing no other way around it, I take my seat next to the tub; facing her as she sat atop the toilet.
"Ok, now what?" I ask her. She smiles, twiddling tiny fingers as she makes strained faces...
... "Can't you smell it? It stinks like piss!" This girl says excited, long brown hair tied back into a lightly tied bun. She took me by the hand, leading me into some dank pit of a bathroom tucked behind some dive we had stumbled into. Loud music bled through the walls, unintelligible southern rock cranking through worn barroom speakers.
"You wanna do it here?" I ask her, pulling my hand away from her clammy grip.
"It's my first time... May as well make it as stereotypical as possible." She says, nervously bouncing along with the blaring bass.
"Alright," I say, reaching into my pants. I pull out a small tightly bound ball of drugs, wrapped tight in a cellophane. I clear a spot along the side of the sink, making sure it was dry and free of debris. I had gotten the coke a bit earlier in the day, a few yahoos seeing me as a man who might value such high quality merchandise. It had taken a bit to work it earlier in the day, thick flakes of coke caking along the razor as I dragged it through to sample my purchase. It was good but too strong if I intended on being around people, my lips numbing near instantly. So I cut it before heading out for the evening, working in a bit of Mannitol and Sweettart (my own special recipe) to try and make the shit more manageable. It took to the heavy cut well, easily doubling my haul without complaint. The ride was manageable, smooth as it rode in and out.
I explained to the girl the process, taking the first line as I demonstrated the technique. She nodded, ducking her head as she glided the rolled up bill I handed her. She took to it like a natural, almost making me doubt her claims of nasal virginity as she lifted her head from the sink smiling.
"Like an old pro..." I said, mockingly applauding her as she handed me back the bill. I dabbed my finger under the dripping sink, snorting up a drop of cool water.
"Shall we do another?" I ask, already shaking a bit more onto the chipped and dirty sink surface. Someone angrily knocks on the door, muttering something about all night.
I curse him as I work my ID to separate a few more lines, taking mine first before handing her the bill to follow in kind....
"I make loud fart. And a splash." She says finally, eyes perked wide as the sensation hits. She makes that google eye face that kills me every time, eyes spinning like pinwheels as she blows raspberries to mimic her flatulents. She doubles herself over, head pressed against her knees. She makes a few light grunts, holding her breath as she tenses.
Her bowels gurgle, light splashing heard just before she breaks out into maniacal laughter.
"Smell!" She says, bouncing atop the seat as she celebrates success.
... "So this isn't the first time you have been in the bathroom with four strange men..." He asks. There were four of us on this occasion, and some chick one of us had found... All of us bent over a plate, talking conspiracy and music as we attempted to split three grams five ways.
There had been more earlier in the day, with two of us having a bit of a pre-party before we decided to let the rest in on our fun. It was strong shit; crunched to a fine off grey power with glints of purple candy cutting through (again, a trademark of mine). Five thick lines were carved out from the amassed mountain, lined neatly off to the side. One by one, heads dipped, a straw racing quick along the preset course... The straw first went to the girl, we men shockingly chivalrous towards someone we had no chance of bedding but all the same working like we might have a chance to. From there it went around clockwise, until coming to me. I position the straw against the plate, holding the other end tight against my left nostril. I always used the left; the right permanently clogged from a deviated septum. I took the line in one might snort, grey dust disappearing up the red soda straw in an instant. I lift my head, brain rushing back to amped life. I take another deep snort, grunting a bit as I force my sinus clear. I wince slightly, bitter taste of ether and aspirin tracing my throat. I turn on the sink, running the water cold before racing my fingers under. Catching a few drops, I place my fingers by my nose, snorting up the water to clear the trail.
"Does that help?" The girl asked, nearly sick from the after taste....
"I can smell it..." I say to my daughter, cocking my head in vain to try and avoid the noxious cloud of methane and waste my daughter was delighting in exposing me to.
"It smells bad." I say, waving my hands in front of my face to try and clear some of the stink she was producing.
"Like hot dogs." She replies through her laughter, doubling over again to repeat the process. She grunts again, this time seemingly shocked by the texture of what came, spring upright seemingly in perfect unison with the jetting blast of liquid shit coming out of her.
"Eww..." She moans, her laughter faded in discomfort...
... "It's just awful what goes on in here..." My friend says, handing me a caked gram baggie and his keys. Muffled sounds of two men grunting echoing off the walls of the dank club bathroom, their moans barely heard over the thundering bass; easy enough to ignore if you wanted to. But the rattling of the stall walls... Rhythmic as one crashed into the other was undeniable, as the two of us stood in the adjoining stall engaging in our own vice.
"Take the good with the bad..." I say, slightly lifting the baggie towards him before digging out a nice mound of white flakes. I take it to my nose, snorting mightily. I feel the dust course through me, bitter and foul.
"You really should follow my recipe," I say handing him back the baggie and key.
"What am I? Two?" He replied, snorting a heavy mountain off his key. He winces a bit, gacked up and primed.
"You go ahead and finish that," he continues, handing me his keys and baggie as he walks out, loudly cursing the other couple still going at it.
I shrug my shoulders, not sure what his problem was; standing in a rattling bathroom stall snorting coke. Finally, the one doing the banging cums. He gasps cartoonishly, grunting like a caveman as his partner coos. One of them leaves first, no doubt the top, muttering something before walking out of the stall. Taking one last bump off the baggie, I also make my way out, stopping by the sink before leaving the restroom. Behind me I hear shuffling, quiet footsteps making their way to the sink. I turn to see the man, his face long and sad.
"Ex boyfriend?" I ask him, smiling like a Chesher; feeling no need to pretend I didn't just hear the two of them go at it like beasts.
"No... Just someone I know I shouldn't mess with." He replies. He was pretty for a man, putting himself together as he tried to muster dignity. I'd seen the look he had before, in women I had both known and bedded, but found it odd coming off a fellow male.
"Here," I said, handing him the remaining few bumps in the baggie, too gacked to give a shit.
"I don't..." He started, but I pressed my fingers against his lips; drugs and alcohol turning me into some slutty fairy godmother.
"After the ramming you just took, you do today sister," I said, extending the key out to him. He took it, gliding through the process of setting his plate and injecting it in a might snort...
"Daddy... Help..." She asks, leaning nearly off the bowel; thin fingers pressed against the cabinet in front of her for balance as she stood atop her step stool on tippie toes.
"Poop juice..." She said again, grimacing uncomfortably as greenish brow nick dripped off the back of her legs.
"You made a mess..." I tease, balling up some toilet paper and wiping off the back of her leg.
"Yup. I filled the bowl." She said proudly, turning around to marvel at her production before it was sullied with paper. She then flushed, pulled her pull-up back on and ventured back into her room, wishing me good night before doing so.