Humour | Silliness | Oddball | Fiction

#20 — Toilet Experiences Of The Absurd Kind- Doug

An unlikely and unexpected occasion

This is a short story inspired by two things. The first is fellow medium writer Ham Sandwiches, his talent for writing absurdities is top shelf. The second is an actual restroom I had the opportunity of using on the west coast of Canada, when I was living there.

Doug, Bill, and Carol were enjoying their summer road trip through the mountains. The sights were incredible, they had seen bears, big horn sheep, and a variety of birds. These, along with the breathtaking landscape, had made their trip quite memorable. Possibly even the best that they had ever taken, well at least for Bill and Carol. Doug, on the other hand, was having some issues. Well more like one issue in particular.

The three of them were camping for their journey, yet the only thing that they cooked on the campfire was their morning coffees. They would have their hot beverages upon awakening and then pack up to search for either a coffee shop or a restaurant for breakfast on their way to the next destination.

They would always find a spot close by.

And while Bill and Carol were into having an adequate amount of riboflavin and fibre for their first meal of the day, Doug would always succumb to his love, nay, addiction to a cheese-filled breakfast. Doug simply could not get enough of grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches, cheese danishes, and extra cheesy breakfast skillets.

In the evenings the three would find a place near their campsite for dinner, and again, Bill and Carol would usually have a sensible meal while Bill gorged himself on mozzarella sticks, Mac and cheese, potatoes au gratin, and poutine. Today he was feeling the effects of having an overload of the milk loaf, and it didn’t help that for dinner the night before he had an entire cheese fondu to himself.

“Oh my fucking hell,” Doug groaned in discomfort from the back seat, “I just want to have a shit.”

Carol turned and looked back at Doug with an ‘I fucking told you so’ type of look on her face. “You know you could try a laxative,” she said in hopes that Doug might listen to her for once.

“Fuck that!” Doug replied defiantly. “I don’t do pharmaceutical chemical type bullshit. They only mask the problem by giving you a temporary fix. They leave you not figuring out what the cause is.”

“I’m pretty sure the problem is the amount of cheese you’ve been shoving into your gullet,” Bill piped up. “The laxative would at least give you some relief while you changed your diet for a few days.”

Doug looked at Bill with annoyance in his eyes. He crossed his arms and looked out the window as they drove up higher into the mountains. They were coming to a small shack at the edge of a mountain forest that had a big sign with the words in big bold letters, “Snack Shack-Food, Drinks, Toilet!” Suddenly, Doug felt something stirring in his abdomen.

“Stop here,” he said loudly with worry in his tone. “I think something’s happening.”

Bill pulled over and parked in front of the shack.

“Alright buddy,” he said to Doug, “I could use a cold beverage while you do your thing.”

Doug clambered out of the back seat as fast as he could. He speed walked into the shack and saw that there was a small fast food kitchen behind a counter with a cash register. He looked at the young woman behind the cash register and asked, “Where’s the toilet?”

“It’s around back in another little shack,” she replied casually, “you might want to take a jacket in there with you. It gets chilly in there ‘cuz the forest keeps it in the shade all day every day.”

“No key necessary?” Doug asked hurriedly. He felt like he had a turtle head poke out momentarily.

“Nope, it’s all yours.”

“Thank you,” and he rushed back out the entrance.

Only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, he wizzed by Carol and Bill as they were about to enter the shack. Without his jacket, he ran around behind the Snack Shack, and into the shade of the forest to find the Crap Shack.

He did notice the temperature was quite a bit lower than around the front, yet he felt that he was too far gone to go back for his jacket. He felt the chocolate prairie dog pop out briefly and scrambled to open the door.

Upon entering, he closed the door and locked it. He turned and saw the coveted throne that would be his saviour, and dashed like lighting towards it. He had barely gotten the belt on his shorts undone and dropped trou by the time he sat down on the pot. Even though he felt like he was in an emergency, his expectations were dashed as quickly as it had taken him to get to the toilet. He hung his head in frustration.

“Oh for the love of FUCK!” he shouted.

He raised his head and looked around the room, to his immediate right there was a very comfy-looking armchair, and just past that there was a small wood-burning stove with a fire burning inside. Just on the other side of the stove was another door. He raised one eyebrow in confusion, he had never seen a bathroom like this before.

Then the door just past the stove opened, and a big burly man with a beard, wearing a thick sweater, a wool beanie, and carrying some wood walked in.

“Hey!” Doug shouted, startled. “I’m in here doing something!”

“Now, now, young man,” the jolly looking fellow said to him as he walked up to the armchair and sat down, “the fire can’t tend itself.” He picked up the short fire poker and opened the door to the stove. He poked at the embers burning inside and added a couple of logs. “The flu on this stove is a bit funny, and the fire can go out very quickly.”

The large smiling man shut the door to the stove, turned to Doug, looked him in the eye, and gave him a wink.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Doug said excitedly, “I’m trying to release something that has been in storage for far too long.”

“Oh just calm down young man, I’m here to help,” the man said to Doug. “Name’s Bernard, or you can call me Bernie.”

Bernie held out his hand to shake Doug’s in greeting, but Doug slapped it away, repulsed by having another man sitting beside him as he tried to defecate.

“Well Bernie, I’m Doug,” he responded in wide-eyed horror, “and I want my fucking privacy you freak.”

Bernard’s smile turned into a concerned frown. “You won’t be able to reach the stove from there, and the fire won’t last long if I leave you here by yourself.”

“I don’t need the fucking fire, it’s summer! Get out!” He pointed at the door Bernard had entered.

Bernie looked at Doug and pursed his lips. “Hmph,” he muttered as he got up from his chair. Not seeming to be too put out by Doug’s behaviour, he added, “Well I’ll just be outside if you need me.” He walked out the door and closed it behind him.

“What a fucking weirdo,” Doug said to himself. He went back to focusing on his dilemma. A couple of minutes passed by as he grunted, groaned, and pushed as hard as he could, with no effect. He hung his head in frustration again. As he raised his head, he saw the fire go out.

“Ain’t that some shit,” he thought.

He looked over to the wall opposite him and saw a large thermometer. The mercury was encased in a wide piece of glass which made it easy to see from a distance. He noticed the red was dropping quickly, and soon he was able to see his breath.

“How the hell is this even possible?” His eyes grew wide in disbelief, and he began to shiver, so he decided to try to get the fire going again.

He lifted his derrière from the porcelain receptacle and stepped to the stove. Immediately the loaf he had been baking over-proofed and was about to pop out of the pan. He jumped back on the John expectantly. He took a moment to give it another push, yet the results were just not there.

“FUCK!”

He looked back to the thermometer and saw that the mercury was still plummeting, so he hopped quickly to the stove and got the door to the stove open. He shivered hard as he picked up the poker, and his trembling seemed to shake his brown log to the opening of his poop chute. Dropping the poker, he launched himself, ass first, back to the now cold seat. He made another attempt to log an entry, however, he was denied.

“WHYYYYYYYYYY!?!”

Feeling like he was fighting an uphill battle, he let go of his trepidation and decided to call on Bernard.

“Bernie!” He squeaked defeatedly, then swallowed hard. “I need some help.”

Immediately Bernard opened the door and marched over to the wood-burning stove. He picked up the poker as he opened the door, and poked around the contents of the stove. Soon the embers were lit again, and Bernie sat back down in his armchair.

He looked back Doug, and gave him another wink. As the room began to warm up again, Doug looked at Bernard and gave him an awkward smile. Now that he was warm again, Doug was able to focus on the matter at hand, or more so, the matter at rump.

Doug relaxed his colon and released the first of his payload. It was a relief, though it wasn’t enough and more had to come.

Bernard pulled out a wooden pipe and put some tobacco inside. He struck a match off the side of the stove and held it above the bowl, puffing gently. He turned to Doug again and gave him a nod and a smile. Then Bernie turned back to the stove and opened the door. He stoked the fire a bit and added another log.

Doug was able to do the same.

Bernie closed the door and looked Doug in the eye again. He then turned to the side of his chair that Doug was unable to see and reached down to the floor. He pulled up a big flask, cracked the lid, and took a sip.

He held it up to Doug and asked, “Whiskey?”

Doug took the flask from Bernard and said, “Thanks, Bernie.” He took a big sip, the whiskey burning his throat a little as it slid down. He handed the flask back to the big man and looked him in the eye. “You’re a saint, Bernard.”

After taking another sip, Bernard handed the big flask back to Doug. “Have another,” the jolly caretaker said.

Doug didn’t need convincing, he took as big a swig as he could handle. The whiskey seared his esophagus, but he didn’t care, it warmed him to the core. He was relaxed enough that he was able to offload the rest of his freight, and he was finished with his business.

Bernard gave him another reassuring smile and a nod.

Doug wiped, pulled his shorts back up, and washed his hands in the sink that was on his way to the door in which he had entered. Now slightly tipsy, he looked back at Bernie one last time.

“Uuuh, thank you for everything.”

He waved, and Bernard nodded. Doug turned to the door and unlocked it. He opened the portal of entry and stepped back out into the mountain forest, closing the door behind him.

As he walked back around to the front of the snack shack, he saw Carol and Bill laughing loudly.

“Hey there, you two ready to get back on the road?” he asked them.

They stopped laughing and turned their attention to Doug.

“Yes, we are,” Bill slurred his speech a little. “But Carol’s driving, I’m a bit inebriated now.”

“Oh shit,” Doug said, “how long was I in there?”

“Long enough for Bill to drink a couple of mickeys of whiskey,” Carol informed Doug. “Come on Drunky, let’s get going.”

Once they left the Snack Shack behind, it occurred to Doug that the man who kept the fire burning was named Bernie.