Breaking Down The Men's Room Stalls

If you want to poop in the men's room at my office, you've got a tough decision on your hands. The decision? Which stall do you choose? It's kind of like "The Lady and the Tiger," but without the rip-off ending where you don't get to find out what was behind the door that the protagonist chose because you're supposed to "use your imagination" or some bullshit. Whatever, Frank Stockton; if you're too goddamn lazy to write an ending, that's fine, but you don't have to jerk our chain with a cliffhanger that's never going to get resolved. I mean, what is this, the final season of ALF?*

Anyway, the men's room in my office... First things first, it looks like this:

As you can see, there are four stalls from which you can choose (this, of course, is provided that they're all empty; if any are occupied, there's a whole additional set of choices that must be made and, quite frankly, I haven't the time or inclination to get into them today because I am so very lazy). Here are the pros and cons of each one:

Stall #1

Pro - The cleanest of the four by a country mile. If you ever felt the need to eat, say, a large tuna melt out of a toilet, doing so out of the one in Stall #1 is the smartest way to go seeing as it would be the least likely to give you Hepatitis.

Con- The reason it's so clean is that, as detailed in my photo-accurate blueprint, it's right by the door. If you're pooping in that stall, everyone out in the hall by the copier can hear you blasting away. No one wants to be the guy whom everyone thinks is taking a trombone with him on his bathroom breaks.

Stall #2

Pro- Reasonably clean, and it's just far enough away from the door that, should you happen to have had a hearty bowl of chili for lunch, you can be at least somewhat sure that you're "bowel songs" aren't being broadcast in high fidelity, if you catch my meaning.

Con- This stall should be condemned. First of all, the door won't close all the way because the hinges are all wonky, so you'll pretty much be pooping for an audience. Secondly, the toilet seat is missing a few of the screws that hold it firmly to the bowl. This turns the whole business of dropping a deuce into a carnival-esque thrill ride of slipping, sliding and the very real possibility of testicular pinchage, should the seat and the porcelain catch you just right.

Stall #3

Pro- Very clean, and the overhead light is right above it, which makes for a very pleasant environment for reading magazines, the sports section, etc. while you're working hard for the money, as it were.

Con- The toilet seat on this one used to be broken, but finally enough people complained to get it fixed. Problem is, they put a toilet seat on there that's... uncomfortable, I guess. It must be designed for an ass that's not of this planet, because it's got these weird ridges and bumps and, in the thigh-support department, it's quite paltry. Maybe it's supposed to be an ergonomic toilet seat, but that seems unlikely, so I'm sticking with the theory that it's from Saturn.

Stall #4

Pro- The farthest away from the door and, thus, the most private. You could cut a fart at a decibel usually found at a Metallica concert and the people outside would be none the wiser. Oh, and occasionally, someone will have left the funny pages in there for your mid-dump entertainment.

Con- Due to the luxuriousness of it's privacy's bounty, everyone uses it. Everyone. Because of this, the toilet is half the time covered in piss, ass-sweat, stray pubes and a substance that you can only hope to God is Ranch dressing, because otherwise you'll hurl. No joke, I took a Hazmat worker in there once and he said, "Yeah, so... I've seen Ground Zero for the Ebola virus before."

So there you have it. Now, you can make an informed decision when it's time to poop at the men's room in my office. I trust you'll make the right decision. Barring that, you can just poop in the urinal, which is what I do.

*Too obscure? Or just obscure enough?