Lobbyist

"...and I think you'll find my rates are reasonable (reasonable ratessssssss...)... yes... uh, ha... uh, ha... yes... and a good day to you too, sir... tell the Mrs. I said hi..."

 

I ended the call, carefully placed my smartphone on top of the toiletpaper dispenser, leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, hands folded, closed eyes, and continued enduring the post-lunch bout of explosive diarrhea in the second-from-the-last stall adjacent to the handicap toilet... the next few squirts were so violent and spraying (mercilessly painting the porcelain (porcelain painting...)) that my $100 fine-silk American flag tie slipped back over my shoulder, falling between my pale, hairy shivering thighs...

 

"Ah, shit!... fucking!..." not again... I pull it up, inspecting the spattering of shit and toilet bowl water on the tip... spit on it and try to rub it out... as the next convulsing spray of diarrhea showers the bowl anew...

 

I finish up, wipe the asshole and cheeks clean (as best I can)... out to the sink, wash hands, pick the lunch out of my coffee-stained teeth, and out into the hallway... hot-stepping it to a 1:15pm appointment in House Speaker Pelosi's (D, California) office down the hall and to the right.

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