This piece is about a man who really needs to visit the bathroom and has a religious experience.
Underground locomotion skidding at maximum capacity. The train segments turned one at a time with a slight successive delay, causing the passengers to sway sideways in their seats. A drop of sweat visible on the forehead of a pale man named West. The tunnel squeeze was visceral and walls stretching, only at his discretion, ad infinitum. Within soil eating dirt, an earthworm had to sooner or later be in the light of day and do you know what soil is made of? Whatever next station was, West was either dying or getting off. Zealous and miraculous clenching as the station was approaching. He stood up and kept his face as intact as he could. A psychological launch procedure begun; three: door slid open, two: he stumbled onto the platform, one: oh fuck. The escalators like mudslides and people cascading and West with chaos within headed into the chaos without. It was soon about to emerge but he clenched harder to the point he could no longer feel his face.
He made it: the metal door marked by a black stick figure in a wheelchair. It was one of those public toilets where you did not have to pay anything, with implied condition and clientele. He was of respectable status - an art director for an advertising agency which was apparent on his look, a dark blue blazer in contrast with small ear extensions, beard and a flat cap and now West had to risk the optics of entering such foul place. So he opened the door and the white throne was standing shiny, tall and proud, but only due to how dirty the rest of the restroom was. With every passing sequence the will of the load exacerbated, his ass finally touched the white rim and just as he was about to release he glimpsed another ass, although clothed. An alleged male human with torn jeans and sneakers. He was on his knees and waist up stuck inside the wall. West probably had dropped a bit of the load but quickly undid the work, by sucking it back into his body.
“Uh... what the?” West asked.
“Is there anybody out… or in there?” the voice was muffled by the wall but made it through coherently enough.
“Sorry but I really have to… Ugh... I cannot keep it anymore. I didn’t know anybody would be in here. I’m so sorry” a barbarous cluster reminiscent of grindcore reverberated through the handicap toilet.
“Dude! Like that is so disgusting. And rude”.
“What am I supposed to tell you -- sorry, I had no choice…”, for a second a silence befell the room and to camouflage the next wave West continued, “and uh, so what are you doing in there?”
“Fuck you”, the man in the wall responded. West reached for some paper and fumbled with it while looking at the man’s ass poking out of the wall.
“There must’ve been some dairy in that pastry I had at my client’s office. I asked if it was lactose free but I guess my client was ill-informed and...”.
“Why do you keep on talking, man? I don’t need to know. Just let me enjoy this”.
“Do you believe in God?”.
“I wouldn’t say so, no”, West rolled his eyes at this question while responding.
“You are a fool because this restroom wall is the only thing separating you from God. A divine celebration of luscious colours is residing here, cherubs like rainbow waterfalls touching my skin and I can hear a siren’s perfect pitch etc.. It reminds me of an aurora. The beatitude is coursing through me and there you are interrupting me with your lactose intolerant ass. God does not judge but I am”.
“Shit man, what are you on? LSD?”. Sound of toilet paper wiping.
“I am Adam and nice to meet you,” he responded.
But it was true, God leaned in and rested an ear against the restroom wall. Chubby cherubs whispered words akin to eternal bliss and waves of auroral joy bathed the torso of Adam hanging into the divine realm. Adam was of dark hair, symmetric and a kind face and his skin looked abnormally healthy. The breath of God was audible through the restroom. Adam’s connection to the divinity made him sense some type of synchronicity with God’s will and it translated into sympathy for West. God through the eyes of his creatures had seen West’s struggles on the train, how his face paled and gut twisted as he resisted the urge. West was a decent man for sacrificing his temporary well-being. Somehow that was one of God’s miracles - that man could withstand such pains on behalf of empathy and that humans were not shitting like animals wherever the instinct appeared. Truly transcendent behaviour. The breathing got heavier and it shifted to happy crying which freaked West out. God leaned in further as he wanted to come closer to the creatures and crashed through the wall. The embodiment and image of God translated into an older man with a neatly kept moustache and equally neatly kept slick back. His torso was hanging into the corporeal restroom. West decided not to pursue his bowel emptying any further and stood up, washed his hands and left the room. God looked to his left and saw the ass of Adam while Adam saw the ass of God.