The Walmart Horror
The other day I was in Wally World picking up a few odds and ends when the need to rid myself of some coffee arose. I ambled to the back of the store and entered the Men's room. It looked pretty much like any Walmart crapper; wet paper towels on the floor, both urinals covered with plastic bags taped to the wall, and the trash receptacle in the wall overflowing to the floor. The smell was, however, unlike any toilet I've ever encountered anywhere: it was a sickly sweet odor commingled with the usual fecal scent, and the distinctive and horrendous stench of rotting carrion. Except for a badly distended bladder, I would have left immediately. Against my own (questionable) better judgement I went to the first stall and entered.
I'm sure after enough years of therapy that the image will not arise in my mind and give me symptoms of PTSD, but for now it is branded into my psyche. The toilet bowl was full of an apparently gelatinous mass of burgundy slime with some seriously huge turds breaking the surface, like prehistoric sea monsters lying in wait to devour any moron dumb enough to sit down. The seat itself was covered with what looked like vomit. I can't describe it without becoming ill; even contemplate the sight nauseates me. The whole mess looked rather like Godzilla had sodomized King Kong, who in term dumped the whole mess into a vat of fruit punch and roadkill. Mind you, I had worked in bedside patient care in a hospital for a number of years, and still I never had seen anything like what lay before me.
My bladder no longer needed draining; the urine had evaporated in horror. I flipped on the switch near the restroom door that you are supposed to activate if the toilet needed some attention. A few minutes later, a dude in a Walmart shirt came in and started to ask what was going on. He didn't get very far.
"Yes sir. What can I...Holy Shit! What the hell is that smell?" The poor slob got a whiff of the ambiance.
I told him damned if I know, but if I was him I'd find a lower peon on the Wally World food chain to clean up that mess. I did assure him that I didn't do it, and then I left. I now find I'd rather piss my pants than go in a Walmart crapper.
Avoidance behavior is what my psychiatrist calls it.