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Mr. DC shoes a
piece of my mind, I heard the door open and slam shut again.
    “Hey, Mathew, was it? How’s it going?” I
heard a voice say.
    No answer.
    “Excuse me,” the voice again, “Hey...Hey!
What the fuck man...”
    There was a - thump - then I heard the
door to the next stall slam shut and the lock slide into place.
    “You mother fucker; fuckin' bite me, what the
fuck man?” It was Colby from accounts payable.

CHAPTER TWO
     
     
     
     
    I could see that the DCs had changed
positions. I could still see the left shoe, but they were pointed
towards the now occupied stall next to mine.
    “You mother fuckin' piece of shit. Why the
hell would you bite me? My arm is fuckin’ bleeding now, bastard,”
Colby said to his assailant.
    There was a - thump - as Mr. DC Shoes
banged against Colby's door.
    “Hey, somebody help!” Colby yelled then
waited a moment for a response, “Hey...somebody...anybody...”
    Nothing.
    “Hey, Colby, is that you?” I asked
tenuously.
    It took a moment for him to answer. I think
he was trying to place my voice.
    “Don?” he finally asked.
    “Yeah, it's Don,” I responded.
    “Hey, Don, that mother fucker out there just
bit me,” he said, as if I hadn't heard, “That fat, sweaty piece of
shit grabbed my arm and took a big chunk out of it, I'm bleeding
pretty bad.”
    He seemed shook up, I really felt for the
guy. Colby was one of those poor suckers who lost his hair in his
early twenties and developed a weight problem just after high
school. I gave him a moment to collect himself before I spoke.
    “Hey Colby, you got any toilet paper over
there?”
    There was a few seconds of silence before I
heard him go to work on the dispenser next to him. He seemed to be
struggling and I felt guilty for a moment. It was hard enough
trying to get more than a few squares from the dispenser without it
breaking, let alone enough to do a thorough job. Luckily, Colby was
a like minded man and when he handed me the paper it was a wad big
enough to stuff a pillow.
    I don't know why businesses insisted on using
the cheapest single ply bathroom tissue possible, it's not like
anybody is going to think, well, I only use about ten squares of
the good stuff at home so I'll do the same here . Fuck that, you
use more than enough to get the job done, after all, you ain't
paying for it, right?
    I took the huge wad of paper Colby was
offering up from under our dividing wall. I quickly pulled off the
pieces soaked in his blood and let them fall to the floor.
    “Thanks,” I mumbled uncomfortably as I did my
wiping, grateful that my newspaper and toilet seat cover were now
safe from the abuse.
    There was another - thump - thump -
on Colby's stall door.
    “Fuck off, man,” Colby yelled, then, “Help,
somebody help!”
    He was starting to sound a little
hysterical.
    “What gives, Colby?” I asked as I fastened
the button on my slacks and buckled my belt, “Did that guy really
bite you?” I didn't know Colby swore so much, but he didn't sound
like he was practiced at it, so I guess it was the situation.
    “Yeah, he fuckin' bit me,” Colby's voice
echoed in the tiled confines of the restroom, “Sweaty bastard sunk
his teeth right into my arm.”
    “Why?” I asked.
    Now that seems like a dumb question,
but back then , it was the only sane one; people don't just
go around biting strangers in the john.
    “What do you mean, why? I don't fucking know
why. He just bit me,” Colby sounded like he was close to tears.
“Fuckin' punk kid named Mathew. I just cut him a check ten minutes
ago.”
    “He works here?” I asked a bit surprised.
    “No he doesn't work here. The little shit
participated in a one day drug trial down in the labs.”
    Colby was calming down a little now, but I
could tell he was still clenching his teeth in pain.
    “When the drug trials are over the
researchers send the test subjects up here to accounts payable and
we cut them a check. That little bastard out there's name is