Summary

The narrator recounts a humorous and mortifying experience at a birthday party where a malfunctioning soap dispenser leaves them with an embarrassing stain, amidst a series of other unfortunate events.

Abstract

The story unfolds at a crowded 50th birthday party where the narrator, after consuming several hot dogs and Guinness, finds themselves in a precarious situation in a toilet that is directly off the main lounge. The situation escalates when the soap dispenser squirts soap onto their crotch, leading to an embarrassing stain that is mistaken for something else by other guests. The narrator's distress is compounded by the party's chaotic atmosphere, an encounter with an intimate scene involving a friend, and the judgmental reactions of some party-goers. The experience prompts the narrator to reflect on the nature of parties and human behavior, ultimately deciding to leave the party early to find solace in watching a movie and drinking chocolate milk at home.

Opinions

The narrator is critical of the architectural choice to place a toilet directly off the main lounge room.
They express a love-hate relationship with hot dogs, acknowledging the risk but indulging anyway.
The narrator has a strong aversion to being disturbed while using the toilet, as evidenced by their aggressive response to knocking.
They show a clear disdain for poorly designed soap dispensers, suggesting that the incident was not the first time the dispenser malfunctioned.
The narrator is self-conscious about the judgments of other party-goers, particularly regarding the unfortunate stain on their crotch.
They perceive the party as having lost its respectability, likening the attendees to reptiles and referencing a scene from "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas."
The narrator is reflective about human nature, equating people to filthy hogs at one point.
They are sarcastic and humorous in their recounting of the events, suggesting that the party was far from enjoyable.
The narrator values personal space and is frustrated by the lack of privacy and consideration at the party.
They find the situation so intolerable that leaving the party early is preferable to staying, indicating a strong preference for a quieter, more controlled environment.

The Soap Dispenser is Out to Get Me

Birthday parties are a young person’s game.

John suddenly realised that he had wiped his arse with his Dad’s antique binoculars. (Photo: cottonbro)

It was a mistake. I know that now.

It was one of those houses with a vast main lounge room and a toilet directly off it. Personally, I’ve never understood such deranged architectural choices.

The problem was the hot dogs.

Look, I know hot dogs are always a fucking risk. But who can resist such an exquisite blend of anus rings and testicles mushed into a log and soaked in enough brine to make it taste good?

Not me. I ate four of the bastards.

I was also drinking Guinness. That didn’t help.

Hot dogs are a gambling man’s food. (Pixabay)

That’s why I found myself at a jam-packed party shitting in a tiny toilet while people kept knocking on the door.

‘Fuck off’, I kept saying.

It was a touch aggressive. It wasn’t that kind of party — It was a fiftieth birthday celebration.

Still, I needed total seclusion and I have always had a hatred for poorly designed toilets.

‘There’s a toilet in the main bedroom’ I tried to yell with clarity, but having my butt cheeks strategically spread on the toilet seat had somehow hindered my ability to raise my voice.

Still, they knocked. They were young girls. I could hear their giggles.

‘Fuck off’ I yelled again. This was a fucking nightmare.

That’s when I heard it. They started singing Happy Birthday.

I’d be damned if I was going to miss that — the god damn highlight of the whole night.

I have never wiped my butt so quickly. I stood up, flushed and went to wash my hands. I pushed down the soap dispenser, and it hurtled its nice smelling spunk horizontally into my crotch.

I finished washing my hands and grabbed some tissues to try and wipe the creamy liquid off. It was just no good. Happy Birthday was reaching its climax, and it looked like I had just reached mine.

Which incompetent wanker designed those pump action soap bottles? It wasn't the first time they had dispensed horizontally missing my hand completely. It's just this time the shot was right on target.

Birthdays are a young person’s game (Ron Lach)

I’m all in favour of a good urine stain on the pants.

But as far as the other party-goers were concerned, I had a jizz stain on my new chinos. That’s a whole different level.

To be fair, it smelt rather like lavender and rosewood rather than the usual commercial bleach smell of straight spunk.

I wanted to explain that to people, but it would just have been impossible. Who would understand?

I had no choice but to open the door.

A gaggle of three girls went in after me and giggled at the shit smell.

‘Who serves hotdogs and has no air freshener in their toilet?’ I shouted at them weirdly. I saw their giggles turn to looks of judgement as they looked at the stain on my crotch.

It was my lowest moment in some time.

The host tapped a glass and proceeded to make a speech while everyone kept drinking.

Everyone started talking again loudly, so her speech morphed into a conversation with her husband, with myself watching in sympathy from across the room.

That’s when I decided it was a shit party. Everyone was just too drunk and stoned. All the respect was gone.

It reminded me of that scene in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, where there are just reptiles sitting around drinking.

I was right in the middle of a fucking reptile zoo, and someone was giving booze to these things.

Sometimes I think humans are just filthy hogs.

I went looking for my friend who had given me a lift to the party. I walked in on him in the main bedroom. His head was between an old woman’s legs. That explained why the main bedroom toilet was out of action.

You can’t unsee that kind of thing. Fucking reptiles.

I walked back into the main lounge, and the three girls were there with more of their friends. I saw them look, point and start laughing.

Fuck this

I called a taxi, went home and watched Fear and Loathing while drinking chocolate milk.

Fuck parties.

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