Family rest room? What a joke! I don’t care about no family restroom and what its true purpose is. I’m a doper, a tweeter, and don’t give a rat about babies needing their diaper changed or someone in wheelchairs needing to have their moment of privacy. It’s about me wanting to get high here at this casino. After all, if you take out the “c”, the “a”, and the “o” and what is left is sin. I love living in sin!
I just lost a bundle on those slot machines and am jonesing for a quick fix. I go to this one restroom over here by the food court, but them stupid housekeepers keep locking it! Wait, there’s a sign. What does it say? I barely passed sixth grade you know and dropped out of junior high when I was 17. Assholes anyway! “Due to undesirables using the family restroom for other uses then intended, the Family rest room is permanently closed.”
“Closed? How dare they close the family rest room. Don’t they know I need it to do my drugs?”
“Hey you, security guard. Why they close this?”
The man was a tall, redneck looking dude in his blue uniform, polo shirt and badge.
He gave me this ‘I don’t like you already’ look. “You know it’s because of people like you we shut these restrooms down.”
“People like me? I ain’t done nothing wrong!”
“Yeah, right, tell me why you want to use the family restroom for anyway?”
I can’t very well tell him the truth. “I got to go really bad dude,” I tell this clown.
“Use this public restroom then.” He leaves me. I flipped him off as he walked away. Asshole! I go in and find the handicap stall is empty. Thank God for small miracles. My palms are sweating and my fingers tremble as I pull out my baggy of white crystal-like powder and pull out my foil from my back pocket and use my lighter to torch the foil. I used a straw from my courtesy soda pop to suck the smoke into my lungs.
“There’s no smoking in the rest rooms,” I hear some dumb housekeeper tell me. He sounds like he’s old, like in his 50s or 60s. I ignored him. He’s a loser, flunky anyway. “Yo! No Smoking in the restroom,” he tells me in a louder voice.
“Oh, my bad, sorry. I didn’t know,” I reply to this pencil dick housekeeper. You wanna get high too? I want to ask him just to see what he says. I feel the drug start to work. I can function now. I get up from the toilet and hear the toilet flush. I laugh at the funny sound the flushing toilet made like someone gargling.
I stepped outside the stall and not only is this big old janitor looking at me like my old man used to whenever I got home from my bro Jody’s, but two security clowns and a fricken cop are waiting for me. Jesus, I can’t get a break anymore!
Jerry Schellhammer 