Wednesday, September 02, 2009

SteveChat - Episode 13

This one isn't exactly a chat per se, but Steve sent me this little bit he wrote a while ago and I figured it'd be better off here than buried in my old emails...

i know i'm not the only one who indulges myself now and then with a shit in a handicap stall. those things are top-of-the-line. when you walk into a restroom and see a few regular stalls and a handicapper, it's like choosing between coach and first class. in fact they should have a curtain blocking off that section so you can't see what's going on in there. the comfort, the spaciousness.... there's really nothing like it.

but if you're like me, you've never really thought about the possible consequences of pampering yourself in that manner. imagine for once that you're mid-shit, enjoying every inch of your 15 square foot palace, spread out like an offering to the gods, thinking life can't get much better... when all of a sudden you see a couple of wheels roll up to the stall door.

[knock knock]

oh shit.

"uhh... just a minute," you say hurriedly, as the shame rises over your body.

"ok, but hurry" comes the reply "my condition makes it hard for me to hold it, and it takes me about 5 minutes just to get out of my chair once i'm in there."

"ok... i'll be quick," you try to reassure him.

"thanks. let me know if you need help getting back in your chair," he offers helpfully.

"uhh... yeah... that won't be necessary"

you quickly finish up, and nervously open the stall door to leave.

as you try to make your way to the sink a look of disbelief washes over his face, followed by a calm, rational anger.

"did you uhh... did you enjoy it in there?" he asks incredulously.

"yeah" you mutter quietly, staring straight at the floor.

"yeah its nice." he says "plenty of room. plenty of room to maybe.... oh i dunno, PARK A WHEELCHAIR"

At that point, who knows what would happen. he'd probably just run you over, or at least ram you in the shins a bunch of times. after he's had his way with you, there's nothing else to do than walk out humiliated and mutter something about never flying first-class again.


Well said, Stevo. The whole ordeal reminds me of this...

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