Blue Ballin'

"Hey guy! If you wanna jerk off, get the fuck out of this bathroom and go somewhere else."

Synopsis of Blue Ballin':
       As I was working the cafe on a usually very normal Sunday, I went on my break and into the bathroom to relieve myself. As I was in the bathroom, I was placed in a situation I hope I never have to endure again. It turned out that the man in the stall directly next to mine, was fucking jerking off...


 

On Sundays I would normally work the 9 to 5 shift in the café, and this had continued from when I started for at least two years straight, so after a few months I had become accustomed to my morning routine. As I entered the store an hour before the doors opened, I would prepare all syrups, tea concentrates and brew fresh coffee to kick off the day. Every Sunday was the same routine, same break times; hell I even had my shit schedule down to a routine. 11:30 was my first break, and was always the time I had to take a dump. It was the perfect time to go, it was early enough that the toilets were still fresh and clean from the cleaners visit earlier in the morning, and there was little bathroom foot traffic at this time of day. I never had to share the bathroom with another soul at 11:30 on Sundays; it was like my own little oasis that felt like home.

 As any man could attest when you’re at peace and doing your business, and another person decides to join in on the activities next to you, not only does it kill your dumping experience, but it almost becomes offensive. Like that person next to you purposefully came into the stall directly next to yours, to intentionally interfere with your Zen. For me this almost always happened if I was to go at any other time of the day, it was as if right when I sat my ass down, the door would open and I would be inclined to mumble under my breath,“ Son of a bitch…” Though Sunday at 11:30 was always the exception, never a soul in sight.

            Yet this Sunday was unlike any other Sunday prior. It was 11:20, as I looked at the clock on the café register. I felt the warm sensation inside me, my body starting to prepare for the events that would unfold in just 10 short minutes. The cups of coffee I had earlier were hard at work, acting beautifully as a natural laxative, catalyzing my digestive process.

“Yes” I thought, “Only a few minutes longer, hang in there.”

 I had been looking forward to this moment since I had woken up that morning. As with any normal Sunday, Janessa, a bookseller, had come up at 11:30 to start her round of break coverage for the day, mine being the first. Janessa had taken on the task of what we called “Break Bitch.” This role was essentially the task of covering every single break while on your shift. This included Café, the Music Department, and the front registers. Break Bitch was a horrible role, and we found the name fitting for the job, so it stuck.

As Janessa approached the café I began to cheer inwardly as euphoria was in reach. Janessa knew of my morning activities and always got a good laugh when she came up to cover my break. As she washed her hands, and placed on her apron, she looked at me with a smirk and said, “Alright Sean, go do your thing.”

Excited and relieved, I removed my name tag hanging from my neck and concealed it within my right pocket. My stomach was gurgling out of control at this point, as I was prairie dogging it on my short walk from the café to the bathroom. I remembered how peaceful the bathroom would be at this time of day, as this thought of peace would always put my stomach pains at ease.

As I entered the bathroom, the squeak of the old door hinges was loud and crisp, as it echoed throughout the empty and ammonia filled air. I was in a zone now, and within this zone I had but one thing on my mind; take a shit.

I entered the first stall from the urinal, my favorite one. The inside walls were covered in half erased graffiti. My favorite drawing was still gleaming with pink neon color, for no one had gotten to removing it yet. It was a picture of a girl’s ass, voluptuous and round, a drawing done by an art major or one hell of a talented young kid. I always laughed at this picture, for the words under the drawing always struck me as ridiculous.

-Origin of the Gas-Fart- it read.

I laughed as I always had, and proceeded to begin doing my business. That’s when I heard it.

I had been in such a zone earlier that I had totally missed the fact that another being was within the neighboring stall. Anger struck me at first, after the initial surprise. This wasn’t right; no one had even been in the bathroom on Sundays at 11:30. It was as if the laws of physics had shattered, and my world was spinning.

After accepting the fact, I sighed and realized that my Sundays were now tainted. I heard the sound of the toilet paper dispenser as the man next to me was pulling out loads of paper. That’s when I heard the sound again. The sound of what seemed to be of rubbing paper, a rhythmic and continuous rubbing. I had first thought he was wiping his ass viciously, for bad shits do happen to the best of us, yet I was wrong, horribly wrong...

            At this moment I had realized that the man sitting in the stall next to me, in the very same bathroom as me, on fucking Sunday of all days at 11:30, was jerking off. My anger had turned into a furious rage at this point. Not only had this man disgraced my Sundays with an unpleasant appearance, disrupting the normalcy of my day; he was also masturbating. I knew something was wrong from the get go, no one ever came in at 11:30.

At first I stayed silent, realizing the situation at hand. I was contemplating my options; should I stay quiet, or- “No… fuck this” I said as I had already made my decision on what to do. It was then, in my rage that I proceeded to bang hard on the side stall with my fist. I yelled, “Hey guy! If you wanna jerk off, get the fuck out of this bathroom and go somewhere else.”

Silence had taken over the bathroom. Then I heard the sound of his zipper, followed by the frantic motions of rustling pages as he gathered his belongings. I was able to get a good look at his shoes when he ran past my stall and jolted out the bathroom door. The bastard didn’t even wash his damn hands… I couldn’t believe that what had just transpired, actually indeed happened. Feeling violated and having lost the will to continue with my usual glorious dump, I quickly finished up.

 I first looked in the stall next to me to find a book lying on the top of a baby changing station, opened to a page showing a couple doing the reverse cow-girl position; contents of one of our Karma Sutra sex books. I proceeded to wash my hands and with the paper towels I had used to dry them, grabbed the book and opened the door with more paper towels. Skeeved out, I tossed the towels I had used on the ground and walked towards the book floor.

Hell bent on finding this mother fucker with the image of his white, red and black Nike sneakers with high white socks burned into my brain, I glued my eyes to the floor. It wasn’t long until my eyes met the image in my brain. My eyes lifted slowly toward the face of this sick fucking monster.

The man had to be in his mid thirties, wearing high tan shorts and a faded green tee-shirt. He was standing at the customer service desk accompanying a woman about his age. As I walked toward customer service, my eyes met his face, as his eyes met the book in my hand. A look of shock and terror filled the eyes of this man standing ahead of me.

As I approached, my manager Sebastian had been helping the woman he was with look up a book. The man’s eyes were now locked on the naked couple on the front cover of the Karma Sutra book; a dead stare and silence had come over him. I had wanted to say words which never made it from my lips, for at that moment I realized that one; by saying that he was in the bathroom jerking off to the book I was carrying in my hand, I could really fuck up the relationship between these two people, whatever they were to each other. And two, I had already gotten revenge on this jerk-off; by interrupting this man’s pleasure indulgence, I had blessed him with the gift of blue balls.

At customer service we have a cart where we collect all of the misplaced books that we find around the store, and then re-shelve them in their proper location. I had walked up to this cart, and as I was placing the book down, Sebastian had glanced at it and smirked while returning his glare at the computer screen. “Another one of those turned up huh?” he asked jokingly.

Staring at the man, I replied “Yeah, found this one in the bathroom. Some creep must have been doing you know what with it” The man was looking toward the floor at this moment, possibly accepting the fact that I was about to blow his cover. Yet realizing that his balls must have been throbbing with pain at this point, I turned away and returned to the café.

I don’t know what was more disturbing about that incident, the fact that he was jerking off to a sex book in a public bathroom, or that he was doing that while he was out with this woman, who could have very well been his wife or girlfriend.  People seriously make me wonder.