Paul walked into the bathroom, squeezing his knees together. The door squeaked on rusty hinges as it closed behind him. The tile floor was stained in what looked like some kind of art project and reflected the buzzing, flickering lights above. Off to one side a row of dingy sinks sat below mirrors cracked and smeared with who knows what.
He turned to the one wall-mounted urinal in the place but someone apparently thought it would be funny to leave a present in it. Either that or they just weren’t willing to use any of the toilets. Who knows, maybe they ate one of the burritos from the quickie mart and just couldn’t wait.
The stall doors were heavily scratched and scuffed with dried substances stuck on them here and there. One even had a hand print where the handle would be if it wasn’t missing. One of the doors hung at a slight angle but seemed the cleanest of the bunch so he decided that would be his best bet.
Gas station bathrooms were always an adventure.
He approached the door cautiously, making sure not to step in any puddles. Swinging the stall door open he found a toilet, uncleaned of course, and but one or two sheets of toilet paper hanging from the roll. He had a napkin in his back pocket but he wasn’t sure that would be enough.
He took a step into the stall when the brown, murky water in the toilet bubbled. The tip of something green emerged from the muck. At first he thought it was a snake, but as it pushed its way higher he could see it was a suction-cup-covered green tentacle waving in the air, brown slime dripping back into the bowl.
He watched it for just a moment more then decided he didn’t need to go to the bathroom that badly after all.