Oh, look at this nice, sparkling clean bathroom. Everything is stocked and spotless. I am going to shit everywhere.
…
I need to pee very badly. Look, there is an open urinal. I am going to pee on the floor around the urinal.
…
This toilet stall is so nice. Is that toilet paper I see? I love toilet paper! Let me unspool it all and dance around like a little cultist doing a merry jig. Okay, I’m done now. Look at all this toilet paper I’ve wasted, should I throw it in the toilet? Nah, this puddle on the floor looks like a way better spot.
…
These paper towels dry my hands so well. I am going to try and shoot them into the toilet like a basketball. I missed. Let me get some more then. Oh I missed those too. Isn’t it odd that I do this every time I go into the bathroom yet I never see any paper towels on the floor? Whatever!
…
Holy shit, my asshole is exploding. Oh my God. Lord help me. I am going to die on this toilet. This toilet that was once so beautifully clean. Porcelain like the skin of a babe. Toilet paper elegantly folded. Floor spotless.
Now it is as ugly as my tarnished anus. Specks of feces spot the floor. The toilet paper holder has been ripped from the wall in my delirious agony. The bowl is damaged beyond repair.
I notice these aspects of my sin as I regain awareness like a beast calming from madness. A sad little man surrounded by the hallmarks of his creation.
I rise from my crime scene laden with guilt. My asshole trembles, but so does my lip. I have done something evil in this stall. Something that will haunt my wretched soul till the end of my days.
I could try and clean up after myself. Wipe down the floor. Find a plunger. But at the end of the day, the damage has been done. The dye has been cast. I cannot fix this anymore than I could put the shit back in my ass.
My pants are ruined. I stuff them into the toilet like they are warriors of the viking tradition.
I walk out of the bathroom and never look back.
…
I am going to shit on the floor and then jump on it because I am a psychopath who wants nothing from the world except to leave it worse than I found it.
…
Teehee, I am going to pee in the sink. I am so mischievous and cool and unique. It is so weird that women do not want to talk to me or, more importantly, have sex with me. I am not going to wash my hands.
…
I’m back in the bathroom. I swore I’d never return here. That I’d forget what I did so many years ago. But now I am back. The restaurant has changed while I’ve been gone, from Mexican to Thai, but the bathroom remains the same.
They’ve cleaned the stall. Fixed the toilet paper holders. Erased what I did so many years ago. But they can’t erase the memory. They can’t erase the stain from my soul.
I’m turning to leave the bathroom when it hits me. I thought I’d have more time. But Thai food waits for no man. A lone tear traces down my cheek as I walk back towards the stall.
“God forgive me,” I whisper, shutting the stall door behind me. But I know he won’t. Know he can’t. Some things are unforgivable.
Adam Rimland's Portfolio 