You are Tabatha, a rather meek average geeky girl of modest looks; 5' 5", small B cup breasts, medium length red hair, pale white skin, green eyes, wearing a green t-shirt, glasses, jean shorts with a red belt, and sandals. You are 17, and a senior in high school, and are here with your older and hotter tomboy cousin Alex and your boyfriend Kwame.
Alex is 22, stands 6' 1", has short spiky brunette hair, green eyes, an athletic build, D cup breasts, wearing a tight yellow tank top, denim miniskirt, crew socks, and tennis shoes.
And then there's your equally geeky boyfriend, Kwame, 16, a tall (6' 11") lanky mocha-skinned boy originally from Botswana, possessing a black afro, brown eyes, wiry limbs, deep African accent, and wearing a white tee, glasses, baggy cargo pants with a brown leather belt, and Timbaland boots.
This is your life-altering experience as a result of...
The Cursed Bathroom!!
Walking along the walkway in the park in the middle part of an early fall day, a day marked by summer being a total dick and refusing to let go, ratcheting the temps up to the upper 80's in early October, you and your boyfriend are traversing the park, when you come across a pink lemonade stand ran by a creepy looking girl, apparently no older than 9, with curly blonde hair dressed like a gothic lolita in a frilly black dress and striped stockings. Even though the girl's expression and dress seem odd enough, the fact she isn't sweating under all that dark heavy fabric seems unnatural. "Miss, you seem hot. Could I interest you in some of my pink lemonade? While I'm am it, what about you, mister?"
As though somewhat started playing with Earth's thermostat, the gentle breeze crapped out, the dew point crept up, and the sun felt like it got ten times hotter. Your mouth becomes parched. Sweat rolls down you as you furious clamour for your wallet in your purse. "Get me three glasses!!" you yell, slamming down three dollars. Casually, the girl pours you three 16 ounce glasses of the pink substance, smiling all the while as she does. "Did you really need three?" Kwame asks you as you grab one up and chug it. It is quite sour, but it is one of the tastiest liquids you have ever ingested. A mild chill runs over you, but just for a moment.
Wiping sweat away as you grasp the second glass, you exclaim, "Of course!! It's just too hot to believe it's October!!" You gulp down the second, this time a little slower, to savor the flavor. Kwame laughs and boasts in his African voice, "Hot?! Girl, this is nothing. I lived in 110 degree plus heat back home out near the Kalahari. This is nothing." As though to let him know someone had heard him, it seemed as though the invisible force knocked up the dew point and humidity to to the 70's, also known as entering "swamp-ass" territory, while the temps broke the 90 degree plain. Now even Kwame was sweating. "Yeah, but it was dry heat. Here we have this thing called humidity. Makes heat go from bad to total suck-fest." you answer as you vanquish the third pink lemonade. You spin around and slap down two more dollars, finding the heat unbearable and the heat roasting you faster than the pink lemonade can cool.
You down them both greedily, and it almost seems as though the vendor was holding back chuckling. Kwame starts to fumble through his wallet feverishly now, the heat finally getting to him. Suddenly, your bladder rapidly fills from the fact you just drank five 16 ounce glasses of pink lemonade like shots. Your face tenses as you wonder where the nearest public bathrooms are, and then as though she read your mind, the eerie goth child says, "I see you need a lavatory. The ones nearby are out of order, however, I have been doing so well I have had my own installed. They are for boys and girls, but also for customers only. Seeing as you did so much business, feel free to use it." She points over to a small structure that neither of you swore was there before, but you didn't care. You were going to pop!!
Quickly you sprint over to the door. Kwame finds he has no cash, but does have a debit card his parents gave him in case of emergency. "Is that Visa or Mastercard?" the girl remarks, pointing to a small ATM machine that didn't seem to be there before, as Alex came up. "Hey, Kwame, where's Tabatha? I'm supposed to pick you guys up." He points to the john as he swipes his card, eager to get a drink.
As you enter the door, a light sting radiates from your forehead. Although you think it odd for this time of year, you brush it off as a mosquito bite. What you didn't see was an ethereal hand marking you with its fingernail with an invisible rune. Walking in, it seems much larger than it looked outside... MUCH, MUCH LARGER. "What is this, the TARDIS of toilets?!" you ask, voice reverberating through the tile halls. You reach the central chamber, a spiral chamber of pure glistening opulence filled with what seemed like hundreds of bathrooms, with an open central area overlooking a golden fountain and several small trees. While you want to be amazed at the sights, you realized if you don't find a porcelain throne soon, the fountain won't be the only thing spewing liquid. Stupid fountain.
You barge in the first door you find, a door numbered Restroom #666, only yo find a pink floor-length urinal with a wide floor basin, two large pressure valves near the top, and a snaking pipe at the base. Cursing your luck, you prepare to leave, when it feels harder to go. "What to do...?" you ask yourself, doing the potty dance.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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