Night Stalker In An Unexpected Situation
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The Night Stalker, Tim Wet-Hair, in an Unexpected Situation
“Ð and after we come back from the break, well go live to our Ðon the site correspondent, Leonard Baxter, where hell tell us all about the complexities of the space-time continuum. So stick around Bay City. Well be right back.
Finally, a break.
“Ok, great job there Tim, but try to slow it down there buddy. This isnt a race.”
Nathan always had some helpful hints, that little worm. Sometimes I just wanted to strangle him from his headphone cord. Just watch him dangle there like a lifeless marionette. He always acted like I was some kind of rookie though. Oh well. Just brush it off. You know youre a top gun anchorman, a seven time Emmy award winner.
“Sorry about that N-Man. Ive got a case of the Ðscreaming panthers, if ya know what I mean.”
“What?”
“Ive got to take a shit.”
“Oh. Well, you got about four minutes there, think you can hold it?”
“Nate, I think this one is a bit too close to call. Ill be back in three minutes.”
What a putz. I left the news room and headed for the bathroom, but not my own. The bathroom in my office was in the middle of being updated. They had just started work on its second level. Waterfall shower. Just one of the perks to being Tim Wet-Hair, the most watched journalist in the Bay City area.
The scuffle with the Melinco Brothers last night was rougher than I expected. Leonard seemed a bit out of it this morning too. We barely got them tied up before the police came. But still, no big deal for the Night Stalker and Southern Justice. Afterwards, we got cleaned up and picked up some Sonnys Real Pit Bar-B-Q. Ribs, garlic bread, mashed potatoes, baked beans, corn, and extra bar-b-q sauce on everything. This, most likely the culprit for the knots twisting away in my intestines.
The bathroom had that smell that only public restrooms generate; a mixture of dozens of other peoples bowel movements slightly covered up by cheap air fresheners. I choose the stall in the middle. Most likely the least used, but it didnt really matter. By this time I was about ready to drop trough in the urinals. I put the paper seat cover down, undid my belt, dropped my slacks and let loose. An explosion. My entire body went into a cold sweat. I took a deep breath. The deed is done. Back to work.
“SHIT!”
No TP. I guess this stall must be used more often than I expected. I dont have enough time to wait for someone to help. The show starts up in less than a minute and a half. Desperate times