7/2/04 by philh

I do some of my best thinking in the restroom. It is quiet, private and I always feel that somehow I'm leaving some part of me behind.

That is the normal scenario, but today was not a normal day on the commode.

There I was, completely focused on the task at hand. The humidity was causing sweat to drip down my forehead and the typical relaxation of dropping a deuce was not meant to be during this session in the bathroom...and then I saw someone watching me!

Directly across the room, underneath his little blue bath towel, sat a bald head, two penetrating eyes and an evil grin. It was the sort of grin that mocked my effort and focus. It was the grin of someone who has the freedom to shit their pants while I'm a slave to the porcelain throne.

No, it wasn't Wilfred Brimley.

"Angel Soft. Comfort Where You Want It." my ass!

I was scared of that creepy baby!

I was alarmed and froze completely. I didn't know what to do, so I tried to ignore him and complete the delivery. After washing my hands, I looked back at him, noticing that his eyes follow me across the room. He is much like the Mona Lisa of the commode. The thought even crossed my mind that he may be a member of a Taliban super cell located in the corner of my bathroom. I made this conclusion from the distinct way he had the terry cloth towel draped over his head. The bathroom is no longer safe from terrorist attack. I therefore raised the terror alert level in my house to the color "burgundy".

This goes to show that trying to save money by buying the soft, yet economical toilet paper isn't the way to go, unless you like being watched at your most vulnerable moments by infants with a feces fetish.

Countrymen, I urge you all to not support the Taliban and their terror efforts. I urge you all to put America back in the bathrooms once again. I urge you all to buy Charmin.