There's an unspoken code of conduct in a Men's bathroom in an office. When a man enters and nobody is stood at the urinal he takes a cursory glance towards the stalls to see if anyone is in there. If so a small amount of noise is then made to notify the shittee that there is someone else in the bathroom. That way they can try and pinch closed whatever they're doing and try and refrain from making any unpleasant gaseous or plopping noises until they're sure the bathroom is all theirs again. Personally I think this whole arrangement is somewhat barbaric. I operate on a Carry Out What You Carry In basis. You won't ever find me curling out any ill-gotten gains in a work toilet.
All of which is important to note because recently when I waltzed into the bathroom I was met with a deeply unpleasant sight. For reasons that are entirely unclear to me the design of the stall in my nearest bathroom is such that there us a disturbingly large gap underneath the wooden wall that hides the view of the person s/h/itting inside. So much so that instead of just being able to see the tell-tale sign of a pair of shoes inside (worst is when you can see feet on tip-toes - suggesting the person is grinding their body-weight forward so as to get a damn good purchase on the rim of the seat to rocket out whatever bran-barge they're desperate to be rid of) you can see half-way up the calf. It's an engineering failure that is surely talked about with shame at the International World Toilet Organization conference meetings (taking place in Finland this year, if you're interested).
Anyhoo - I followed all of the appropriate steps of decorum when I entered what appeared to be an empty room, only to see a pair of feet at the end of the room peering out underneath the wall. I shuffled my shoes on the floor to make a scuffing sound, and made a polite, "there's someone else in here..." cough. Then I was forced to make a double-take because I could very clearly see the kind of uncivilized evil that has seen the United States promise as a leading nation dwindle into the backsliding nightmare that it has become.
That being it was very obvious that the person sat in the stall had removed their pants entirely. There was simply no other explanation for the amount of naked calf-skin on display. Now I don't know what kind of monstrous, sloppy atrocity is being committed that requires a man to completely remove their trousers (but keep their socks and shoes on, mind you). I mean really - what kind of barbarian is aware that they'll be having a shit so messy that they best take their pants off in an office bathroom? And not only that, they paid little adherence to the audio notifications that I made and carried on grunting away like Maria Sharapova attempting a particularly difficult cross-court backhand. And not in a, "I can't keep this monster in" manner either. More the kind of primal, grunting that suggested an awful lot of forceful shoving was being attempted. Plus eerily the entire bathroom reeked of burnt popcorn. One can only imagine the magical anus this person must possess that they cannot help but attempt to bash out a bag of freshly, popped corn - but are unable to quite handle the sheer, brutal force of the thing and keep burning their afternoon snack.
Needless to say I quickly finished what I was doing, washed my hands and trotted off back to work before my work-clothes absorbed too much of the smell.