My friend Ravi and I had been working at the same gas station for about 5 months now. Ravi pumped gas, and I ran the convenience store of the gas station, which meant that I had rang up food purchases, restocked the shelves, and was master of the keys for both the men's and women's bathrooms. Included in my duties was cleaning the bathrooms before closing, when I discovered, to my disgust, that our gas station had its very own 'Phantom Shitter'. In the women's bathroom.
Granted, it wasn't a Phantom Shitter who smeared shit on walls. That would've been way too gross for any woman to do, I hoped, but this particular Phantom was partial to not flushing. Can you imagine the distress and emotional trauma I was put through every week, having to flush the turds of this sick individual? It was getting out of hand.
I had been eyeing the female customers to see which ones came in on which days. We had a few regulars, but none that would fit the so-called profile of a Phantom Shitter. However, every Friday, around 4 pm, a girl who I came to know as Susan came to get her tank filled. Every Friday. And every time Ravi would go to pump the gas for her, she would get out and come ask for the keys to the bathroom.
And every friday night, I found unflushed shit in the women's bathroom. Unholy. Vile. Gruesome. I didn't want to think that women really took dumps, much less failed to flush them and make them as inconspicuous as possible. I told Ravi.
"You know that girl that drives up in the black Honda Civic every friday? She gets her tank filled."
He pondered the question for a second. "Yeah, around four o'clock every Friday, right?"
"The very same."
"Yeah, that's Susan. What about her?"
I rolled my eyes in disgust, trying to place the dirty toilet incidents out of mind. "She doesn't flush, Ravi. It's disgusting. Every friday, she comes and makes some small talk, then asks for the keys to the bathroom. And by God, every friday night, there's floaters. I KNOW it's her." I ws getting aggravated.
"Well, put up a sign in the bathroom. If it doesn't go away in two weeks, then confront her on the issue. That's what I would do if I were in your position. But then again, I only pump gas." He shrugged.
I nodded, and took the suggestion to heart. I would wait until friday morning, then post the sign.
Friday morning rolled around, finally. I was proud of the sign I was about to post; it read "PLEASE FLUSH WHEN YOU'RE DONE - management". I figured it would get the point across, what with the little flies and stink lines drawn around it. I happily taped it to the stall door of the women's bathroom, and waited.
Sure enough, at a quarter after four Susan, in her black Honda Civic, drove up.
"Fill 'er up, please." She exited the car, and tossed the keys to Ravi so he could unlock the gascap. She approached the convenience store. 'That's right, you dirty, filthy bitch...come get your keys for your afternoon grumpy,' I thought to myself. She came to the counter.
"Hi, how's it going?" she asked.
I faked a big smile. "Oh, it's slow, y'know. Which pump are you on?"
"Number 5. Hey, I was wondering, what time do you get off of work tonight?"
This caught me off guard. "Umm...around 11:30 tonight. Why, what's up?"
"Well, I wanted to see if you'd meet me for a drink or something."
I cringed at the thought of having a beer with a non-flusher. I had an image of ice cubes floating in a rum and coke. I shuddered. "Honestly, I'm going to be pretty tired, but if you give me your phone number, maybe we can work something out. Is that cool?"
"Sure, got a pen?" She wrote down her phone number on a napkin, and handed it to me. "Call me sometime, when you get a chance. Can I get the keys to the bathroom, too?"
I knew this was it. I handed over the hubcap with the key attached to it, and she went to the bathroom to not flush her shit again.
Cleaning the bathrooms again that night, I found yet another toilet full of water logged crap. I was pissed. I looked at the sign I had taped up, which had been maliciously thrown in the garbage, and back down at the porcelain bowl, filled with large turds. Anger rose from deep in my belly, and I could feel my face getting hot. "Goddammit! This means WAR!" I devised a plan.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I brought a Polaroid camera in with me every friday, so as to get photographic evidences of the crimes committed in the women's bathroom. Susan would come, as usual, and make small talk, always inviting me out, and I would regretfully find some excuse to decline. And as usual, she would take the bathroom keys and take her dump, and refuse to flush it. I became more irate every passing week, eventually coming to dread friday night bathroom cleanup. By this time I had enough. It was time to put my plan into action.
That friday came, and I was as excited as a kid at Christmas. It was my turn for revenge on this sick excuse for a woman. She pulled up like always, around four o'clock, said hello to Ravi, and came inside. Before she could say anything, I started.
"Hey, what are you doing tonight? Any plans?" I asked.
A smile crept onto her face. "Well, no. Why?"
"Well, I wanted to know if you'd like to rent a movie and watch it with me. We could order some chinese food, if you like."
She considered the offer for about a half a second. "That sounds great! My place or yours?"
"Yours. Definitely." I laid on the charm as much as I could, secretly hating everything this woman represented.
"Yeah, okay."
"Alright, it's a date, then," I said. "Want to pick me up here at about 11:30? That's when I get off of work."
"Sure, I'll be here." The smile had grown from ear to ear, then dropped off of her face. A look of pain quickly swept across her unhygenic-non-flushing mug. "Can I get the keys for the bathroom? I had a lot of coffee this morning."
I smiled at her, and reached under the desk for the keys. "Sure thing."
That night during clean-up, I took my final polaroid photo of the demon toilet. 'The Phantom Shitter WILL be exposed tonight,' I thought to myself. My collection of 6 photos full of shit was complete. The time had come to avenge this bathroom's honor, and bring down the beast that was Susan.
She picked me up from work that night, and we drove back to her house after getting our take-out chinese food. Her house, inside, was quite nice. It was hard to think that a non-flusher lived here. In fact, it was exactly the opposite of what I had expected. This place was downright clean, and it smelled springtime fresh. But, I was still angry. The polaroids waited patiently in my back pocket.
The movie and dinner were fine, but you know how you normally take a crap after about an hour after eating a meal? I felt it. And I had some bigger and better plans for this one than normal.
We started getting ready to go. I put my jacket on, and looked at Susan. "Come on, it's late. I've got to get you home."
I stared at her, and reached into my back pocket. "You want to explain these?" I handed them to her.
She flipped through them with a look of pure disgust on her face. "What the fuck...are you some kind of sick pervert or something?! What the FUCK makes you think I want to look at these?!"
I undid my belt, unzipped my pants, and dropped them to my ankles.
"What the FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK?!" She was screaming her head off. "Whatthefuckareyoudoing?!"
"You know, every friday, I have to clean the bathroom that YOU shit in. Every friday. Every friday you come by at four, and every friday you shit, and EVERY FRIDAY you DON'T flush. What makes YOU think I want to look at THAT?!" I squatted in the middle of the living room floor.
"What the fuck?!" It was all she kept saying. I could feel my bowels move, and it delighted me. "Don't do that! You sick fuck! Stop! I'm calling the police!"
I only smiled at her, and shit on her rug. The smell was horrendous; there was no water to mask it. Happily, I pulled my pants back up, grabbed my pictures, flipped her off, and headed out. "Oh, and one more thing: Don't ever come back to my gas station again." I left.
The next day, I told Ravi about the incident, how I set everything up, took the polaroids, and finally shit in the middle of her living room. Ravi laughed hysterically for about 15 minutes, crying, hardly breathing. Finally, he caught his breath.
"You did ALL that because she didn't flush?! The polaroids? Shit on her rug?"
"You're goddamned right, I did!" I thought about it again, and felt myself becoming furious all over again.
"Dude...that's just wrong." He laughed. "Why don't you go check the bathroom, just to make sure it hasn't happened again?" I gave him a weird look. "I think she may have come by again this morning, you know..." Ravi giggled.
"Oh, fuck no! Not in MY bathroom!" I quickly grabbed the bathroom keys attached to the hubcap, and ran into the bathroom. Sure enough, there were turds floating in the toilet. I was beyond angry.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" I slammed the stall door, threw the keys, kicked the trashcan, and stormed out. Ravi was still laughing outside.
Ravi stopped to catch his breath. "Dude, it was me the whole time! Ahahahahaha!"
Granted, it wasn't a Phantom Shitter who smeared shit on walls. That would've been way too gross for any woman to do, I hoped, but this particular Phantom was partial to not flushing. Can you imagine the distress and emotional trauma I was put through every week, having to flush the turds of this sick individual? It was getting out of hand.
I had been eyeing the female customers to see which ones came in on which days. We had a few regulars, but none that would fit the so-called profile of a Phantom Shitter. However, every Friday, around 4 pm, a girl who I came to know as Susan came to get her tank filled. Every Friday. And every time Ravi would go to pump the gas for her, she would get out and come ask for the keys to the bathroom.
And every friday night, I found unflushed shit in the women's bathroom. Unholy. Vile. Gruesome. I didn't want to think that women really took dumps, much less failed to flush them and make them as inconspicuous as possible. I told Ravi.
"You know that girl that drives up in the black Honda Civic every friday? She gets her tank filled."
He pondered the question for a second. "Yeah, around four o'clock every Friday, right?"
"The very same."
"Yeah, that's Susan. What about her?"
I rolled my eyes in disgust, trying to place the dirty toilet incidents out of mind. "She doesn't flush, Ravi. It's disgusting. Every friday, she comes and makes some small talk, then asks for the keys to the bathroom. And by God, every friday night, there's floaters. I KNOW it's her." I ws getting aggravated.
"Well, put up a sign in the bathroom. If it doesn't go away in two weeks, then confront her on the issue. That's what I would do if I were in your position. But then again, I only pump gas." He shrugged.
I nodded, and took the suggestion to heart. I would wait until friday morning, then post the sign.
Friday morning rolled around, finally. I was proud of the sign I was about to post; it read "PLEASE FLUSH WHEN YOU'RE DONE - management". I figured it would get the point across, what with the little flies and stink lines drawn around it. I happily taped it to the stall door of the women's bathroom, and waited.
Sure enough, at a quarter after four Susan, in her black Honda Civic, drove up.
"Fill 'er up, please." She exited the car, and tossed the keys to Ravi so he could unlock the gascap. She approached the convenience store. 'That's right, you dirty, filthy bitch...come get your keys for your afternoon grumpy,' I thought to myself. She came to the counter.
"Hi, how's it going?" she asked.
I faked a big smile. "Oh, it's slow, y'know. Which pump are you on?"
"Number 5. Hey, I was wondering, what time do you get off of work tonight?"
This caught me off guard. "Umm...around 11:30 tonight. Why, what's up?"
"Well, I wanted to see if you'd meet me for a drink or something."
I cringed at the thought of having a beer with a non-flusher. I had an image of ice cubes floating in a rum and coke. I shuddered. "Honestly, I'm going to be pretty tired, but if you give me your phone number, maybe we can work something out. Is that cool?"
"Sure, got a pen?" She wrote down her phone number on a napkin, and handed it to me. "Call me sometime, when you get a chance. Can I get the keys to the bathroom, too?"
I knew this was it. I handed over the hubcap with the key attached to it, and she went to the bathroom to not flush her shit again.
Cleaning the bathrooms again that night, I found yet another toilet full of water logged crap. I was pissed. I looked at the sign I had taped up, which had been maliciously thrown in the garbage, and back down at the porcelain bowl, filled with large turds. Anger rose from deep in my belly, and I could feel my face getting hot. "Goddammit! This means WAR!" I devised a plan.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I brought a Polaroid camera in with me every friday, so as to get photographic evidences of the crimes committed in the women's bathroom. Susan would come, as usual, and make small talk, always inviting me out, and I would regretfully find some excuse to decline. And as usual, she would take the bathroom keys and take her dump, and refuse to flush it. I became more irate every passing week, eventually coming to dread friday night bathroom cleanup. By this time I had enough. It was time to put my plan into action.
That friday came, and I was as excited as a kid at Christmas. It was my turn for revenge on this sick excuse for a woman. She pulled up like always, around four o'clock, said hello to Ravi, and came inside. Before she could say anything, I started.
"Hey, what are you doing tonight? Any plans?" I asked.
A smile crept onto her face. "Well, no. Why?"
"Well, I wanted to know if you'd like to rent a movie and watch it with me. We could order some chinese food, if you like."
She considered the offer for about a half a second. "That sounds great! My place or yours?"
"Yours. Definitely." I laid on the charm as much as I could, secretly hating everything this woman represented.
"Yeah, okay."
"Alright, it's a date, then," I said. "Want to pick me up here at about 11:30? That's when I get off of work."
"Sure, I'll be here." The smile had grown from ear to ear, then dropped off of her face. A look of pain quickly swept across her unhygenic-non-flushing mug. "Can I get the keys for the bathroom? I had a lot of coffee this morning."
I smiled at her, and reached under the desk for the keys. "Sure thing."
That night during clean-up, I took my final polaroid photo of the demon toilet. 'The Phantom Shitter WILL be exposed tonight,' I thought to myself. My collection of 6 photos full of shit was complete. The time had come to avenge this bathroom's honor, and bring down the beast that was Susan.
She picked me up from work that night, and we drove back to her house after getting our take-out chinese food. Her house, inside, was quite nice. It was hard to think that a non-flusher lived here. In fact, it was exactly the opposite of what I had expected. This place was downright clean, and it smelled springtime fresh. But, I was still angry. The polaroids waited patiently in my back pocket.
The movie and dinner were fine, but you know how you normally take a crap after about an hour after eating a meal? I felt it. And I had some bigger and better plans for this one than normal.
We started getting ready to go. I put my jacket on, and looked at Susan. "Come on, it's late. I've got to get you home."
I stared at her, and reached into my back pocket. "You want to explain these?" I handed them to her.
She flipped through them with a look of pure disgust on her face. "What the fuck...are you some kind of sick pervert or something?! What the FUCK makes you think I want to look at these?!"
I undid my belt, unzipped my pants, and dropped them to my ankles.
"What the FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK?!" She was screaming her head off. "Whatthefuckareyoudoing?!"
"You know, every friday, I have to clean the bathroom that YOU shit in. Every friday. Every friday you come by at four, and every friday you shit, and EVERY FRIDAY you DON'T flush. What makes YOU think I want to look at THAT?!" I squatted in the middle of the living room floor.
"What the fuck?!" It was all she kept saying. I could feel my bowels move, and it delighted me. "Don't do that! You sick fuck! Stop! I'm calling the police!"
I only smiled at her, and shit on her rug. The smell was horrendous; there was no water to mask it. Happily, I pulled my pants back up, grabbed my pictures, flipped her off, and headed out. "Oh, and one more thing: Don't ever come back to my gas station again." I left.
The next day, I told Ravi about the incident, how I set everything up, took the polaroids, and finally shit in the middle of her living room. Ravi laughed hysterically for about 15 minutes, crying, hardly breathing. Finally, he caught his breath.
"You did ALL that because she didn't flush?! The polaroids? Shit on her rug?"
"You're goddamned right, I did!" I thought about it again, and felt myself becoming furious all over again.
"Dude...that's just wrong." He laughed. "Why don't you go check the bathroom, just to make sure it hasn't happened again?" I gave him a weird look. "I think she may have come by again this morning, you know..." Ravi giggled.
"Oh, fuck no! Not in MY bathroom!" I quickly grabbed the bathroom keys attached to the hubcap, and ran into the bathroom. Sure enough, there were turds floating in the toilet. I was beyond angry.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" I slammed the stall door, threw the keys, kicked the trashcan, and stormed out. Ravi was still laughing outside.
Ravi stopped to catch his breath. "Dude, it was me the whole time! Ahahahahaha!"
