Peter, a young man, sits at a break room table eating chips and drinking coffee.
PETER: Don't try to talk to me while I'm taking a piss, especially if you're taking a piss and I don't fucking know you. This guy, this fat sack --I see him every morning before I go to my cube. I don't know his name. He takes a shit...every morning. Puts his goddamn reusable lunch bag on the ground next to his coffee travel mug right there on the dirty ass tiles where the janitors slop up piss and little remnants of crap. He dies his hair red, unnatural red, Just for Men red. Looks like Bozo. Anyway, it's mid-morning and I'm pissing. I got the the john to myself and I'm enjoying a moment of serenity as my bladder empties. In walks Shitso wearing a Hawaiian shirt and high water corduroys with sandals. I dunno. I don't get. Dress like a douchebag. I don't fucking care. So I'm standing there, pissing, and he ponies up to the urinal next to me. Mind you, there are five urinals in goddamn bathroom, five. Each one has it's own little blue deodorizing cake sitting on a red triangular splash guard, classy. Plenty of room. I'm all the way to the left. He's got options but he decides to be my neighbor. What the fuck? I figure maybe he doesn't like to piss alone, strength in numbers, I dunno. It doesn't really bother me all that much until he opens his mouth. He starts to piss and then, in a low and casual tone, he says, so hey, how's it going? What the shit? Out of the corner of my eye I could see him with one eyebrow raised and a crooked smile on his face. Where fuck does he think we are? Starbucks? Don't talk to me like that --while we're holding our dicks. So I turn and give him a look. The look. The leave me alone or I'll stuff a brick in your eye as soon as I'm done taking this squirt look. He gets it. Stares at the wall. I finish, I zip up and I go wash my hands. And don't think this is about me being anti-anything, ok? I went to college. I love people...as long as they stay out of my space.