Silent Shitter.

So there I am, popping a squat in the bathroom right next to the Career Planning Office. I like to go to either that bathroom or the one next to the Deans' offices for two reasons. One, there is less of a chance of a random student walking in on me when I'm taking care of business, so I'm almost always alone. And two, if anyone is going to have to suffer through the smell of my curveball-calls, I prefer it to be staff and administrative types. Call it pointless and rather inane vindictiveness, but it suits me just fine.

Anyways, I walk in, I don't hear any rustling, so I move to occupy the handicap stall, I like the arm and leg room. Who knows, maybe I'll want to start shadow-boxing practice while I'm on the can, why bet against a badass possibility like that.

After pissing out what was likely the vegetarian soup I had for lunch, I look down and quickly realize the water is abnormally high for this particular bowl (I am rather familiar with that bowl), only a few inches away from the bottom of my legs. I immediately begin to anticipate an unpleasant amount of splashback. Taking this into consideration, I start experimenting with a slight slide and lean-left effect, essentially trying to minimize the collateral damage of having my own piss hitting the back of my tender thighs when my donation-to-the-bowl breaks the surface tension of the water in dramatic style. It's not the most comfortable method I've ever employed, but it's working. However the strange angle I'm trying to pull off is forcing me to strain more than normal. Consequently, I begin to grunt. I'm not much of a grunter. Normally I hold my breath and push, it that was people do in yoga? Anyways, I'm alone, so why not release some tension audibly? Nothing out of hand, but I'm making noise.

As the opening sequence comes to an end, I begin the second portion of the shitting-endeavor, the portion where your performance will decide how fresh you feel for the rest of the day, or until you take your next shower.

Out of nowhere, I start to hear the sound of wiping coming from another stall! Some fucking savage sat there silently as I struggled, grunted, and confronted what was a dangerous shitting situation. This primitive fuck didn't have the decency to at least scuff his shoes on the floor a little bit when I walked in, I know because I was paying attention. When I'm taking a deuce and someone walks in, I immediately move my feet a little bit, enough to make a recognizable sound so as to prevent the bastard who just walked in from trying to open my door. Did I get this common courtesy when I walked in today? No I did not. Fortunately the rude ass did not pause long enough while walking by my stall to catch a glimpse through the door-hinge-crack and realize it was me, we both would have been mortified I'm sure. Thank goodness the individual washed his hands, otherwise I would have reported to security that an ill-mannered ape-like creature was roaming the bathrooms and needed to be escorted from the building posthaste.