Bathroom Bastards

That bastard! He shit on the seat!....Don't you hate when you walk into the bathroom and you really gotta take a dump and there is someone in the stall taking the dump of a lifetime? I walked into the shitter at BWW cuz I had a bad case of mud-butt and had to relieve some inner pressure that was building up like an over-stuffed vaccuum cleaner bag, only to discover that there were two douche-bags occupying both stalls. Of course they only have two shitters in the men's bathroom, cuz there is NEVER more than two guys at the same time that get the death-shits from Budweiser and Super-Spicy Blazin' Hot-Wings.... Right? Anyway, I looked through the crack in the door and saw this dumb fucker reading the paper. READING THE FRICKIN' PAPER! I have a potential level-3 disaster in my pants and this asshole wants to read while he's taking a poop that could have probably waited until tomorrow night. FUCK! Then I hear the noisiest shit ever in the other stall. "FTTTTTT! BOOOOM! SPLASH!"... "OH FUCK!" This guy must have dropped a kidney or some other vital organ. Finally, the guy wipes 8 or 9 times and the door opens. Out walks a smelly, dirty, rancid dude with a FUCK YOU hat on and a Metallica shirt. I'm never pleased to make eye-contact with the dude that just sat on the toilet that my ass-cheeks will soon be touching. There's just something wrong with it. I rush into the stall, holding my butt, only to discover that he shit on the seat! That bastard! He shit on the seat! How is it even possible to shit on the seat? I mean, come on! You'd have to be standing up and shooting it like a canon or something. So, I leave that stall in fear that if I used it, I may have gotten shitty-balls. Needless to say, I didn't get to poop there. I went next door to Pier 1 and smelled up the place. Then, I bought a wicker basket, in case I had to go again.