Untitled

courtesy of Brandon

Man1 rushes into bathroom stall doing the potty dance until he gets his pants down and sits on the pot. He takes care of the first order of business and sighs audibly and gratefully.

The boots of Man2 appear in under the stall door. He knocks.

Man1: Occupied.

Man2: Sir?

Man1: Yeah – I’m in here.

Man2: Sir, are you aware that you’re parked in a handicapped zone?

Man1: Wha- no I’m not!

Man2: Yes, sir, I’m afraid you are.

Man1: I parked all the way out by Ponderosa! I had to walk almost a mile!

Man2: No, sir, the stall you’re in right now – it’s reserved for the physically challenged.

Man1 [sees the thick metal bar on the side of his stall]: Uh…there’s only one stall in this bathroom.

Man2: I realize that sir, but-

Wheelchair wheels squeak into sight under the stall door

Man3: C’mon dude – my Spaghetti Bolognese ain’t gonna wait.

Man1 [stomach gurgles]: I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to wait.

Man3 [whines]: Officer, pleeeeeeeeease!

Man2 [more forcefully]: SIR, I am going to have to ask you to vacate the handicap zone.

Man1 [stomach gurgles louder]: I’m sorry, but I can’t really get up right now.

Man2 [rattles the stall door]: SIR, I will NOT ask you again. Vacate the handicap zone or you’ll spend the night in jail.

Man1: You can’t arrest me for shitting in a handicapped stall.

Man2: That’s it sir, if you won’t come willingly…

Man2 crouches to climb under the stall door. Man1 can’t hold it anymore and lets loose.

Man2 [recoils and stands up]: Aaargh…now you’re being booked for assault, asshole.