Monsters

 I was somewhat cynical. And rejoiced in the fact that I never went with the flow. No matter what others would say, I would always question them. Sometimes to their discomfort. Until they found a way to neutralize my ways. They began calling me a conspiracy theorist. Title that I enjoyed. Until the day that they began dismissing me based on the title I thought I had proudly earned. 

They were smart. And I underestimated them. I never thought that they would outsmart me and enjoy it They had become me, in a twisted way.

No matter what the current event was our topic of discussion, they would find a way to castigate me. I had fallen down the rabbit hole and I couldn't get out of there, at least not without my integrity damaged and sore.

Even the most trivial talk would end up with me being scarified as the holy lamb. My opinions didn't matter anymore. They would dismiss me almost instantly. And they enjoyed it. I didn't know what to do. What to say or do. It didn't matter. I was their sacrificial lamb, their favorite scapegoat and they had come to like it. 

Until that day. When I had had enough. We were at our local pub. And the news dictated our conversation. A young politician was now being blamed for taking advantage of his young female followers. They saw his profile on Tinder and they were shocked when he asked them for nudes. Then years later, they anonymously called him out on twitter. 

"Spineless scumbag bitches" , I said

"Well, from his position of power, he shouldn't have done that", one murmured.

"Fuck that shit", I said, "and you are supposed to exchange book reviews over that sex app?", I fired.

"He is a powerful dude, he used his position to lure the gals", my friend said, "they froze because he is a politician"

I laughed out loud and said: "You're mature enough to go on such an app and then you make false anonymous accusations on twitter because someone asked you for a tit pic?, that's ridiculous.

My smartass friends were waiting for me to be fired up to shoot me. They had gained some skill. They would bring something juicy up. Then they would let me dissect the issue and then they would try their best to discredit me by calling me a fanatic, a liar and a cheat.

The beer had been abundant and my bladder was more than full.

I had had enough of my friends attacks and attempts to shut me up. So I stood up and without any announcement, i headed to the toilet.

The way to the urinals was darker than normal. But I knew the way.

I had walked the same way for many nights before. I knew the way like the back of my hand. 

I rushed, as the piss wanted out and I wasn't going to give my friends the pleasure of me pissing my pants.

My friends, yeah right, what a bunch of assholes. I loved them.

I pushed the door open and walked into the toilet. The place was empty and you could hear the running water of each other the three urinals on the right. 

Nobody was there. My favorite setting as I had a shy bladder. Ran to the urinal on the far left and unzipped my pants. Took my dick out and began pissing the many beers I had drank earlier. It was orgasmic, and anyone who has ever pissed can tell you how good it feels to piss after a lot of drinks. 

Out of nowhere, this super tall hairy guy appeared next to me and in a condescending way look down on me.

He said: "Your friends are real pricks", and with a diabolical smile released a river of pee. 

"Yes", I replied. 

"Wouldn't you like them to stop bullying you?"

"Well, of course, but that's the way they have grown to be", I said.

"Would you like them to stop right now?", the tall hairy figure asked me.

"Well, yeah" I replied, "what's your name, I like you. You're kinda cool", I said

"I am Mephisto", he replied.

That was the last time I saw my friends.

Hrms Coldwell

12.6.2021

The Sounds Of Pissing III

It had been months since I could have a good night sleep. I used to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the soft goose feathered pillow. But something changed that night. I would stare blank at the white ceilings. With heavy eyes and sore thoughts the nights would roll out.

All I wanted was to fucking fall asleep. I didn't care if I had nightmares or if I just slumber for a while.

I had tried it all. I ran as fast as I could to get my body as tired as possible. I had tried masturbating. I had smoked joints. Nothing seemed to keep me from being awake. I was slowly rotting inside. I could feel death calmly creeping underneath my bed as I laid still.

Was it the secrets? Was it the rain outside? Was it the full on booze nights I spent trying to black out?

I kept drowning in a sea of empty thoughts and eternal seconds. I was so empty.

Time passed and the bodily urge of pissing reminded me that I was awake. 

Like a glitch in my system I hypnic jerked out of bed.

I rushed to the toilet. My dull self crawled in a lackadaisical fashion.

Once in the white room, I lowered my pajamas pants, and took my member out.

I leaned against the wall trying to make the whole situation bearable. Silence was golden. Suddenly I began pissing. And the pleasure reminded me that being awake was a blessing nobody really cherished. At least not me until that very moment. 

I was more conscious than most people I knew. And I was able to enjoy, in the precarious of my situation, a mundane act.

"And I hope I can live another day", I thought.

Hermes Coldwell

11.12.2018  

A Pissing Nightmare

It was December 31st. Everyone was ready to party and ready to leave the year 2017 behind. It had been a year that took so much away from us. Not only had a bunch of people committed suicide, but the year's political and social events had taken a toll on everyone, including me.

I was already sipping on my second vodka with peach juice. There was something about this juice that reminded me of home, my long time forsaken home. The sugar and added chemicals of this particular brand of beverage always reminded me of my years in high school. I guess I was happy to have found this particular drink, to mix with the Russian vodka leftovers from one of the summer parties we had had.

Everyone was grouped already, and several things were being discussed. Politics, music, and generally shit. I was trying to find the right moment for me to laugh, giggle, of sigh. it was like I was looking for a cue of sort of to interact in a natural way, just to make it till midnight, or until everyone was drunk and possibly high to stop pretending to be the way they all wanted or expected me to be.

I remember looking at my phone, just to see the time. To see if my predictions on when would the people around me would become tipsy or even drunk. Just to see how much longer I would have to be there.

My glass was suddenly empty. I moved like a shadow into the kitchen and refilled my tall glass with the potato distillate of the land of the Czars and the saccharine solution we all called juice back home. I didn't even need ice cubes. My drink was perfectly chilled and ready to be gulped down. It didn't really matter. I would pissed it eventually. And I would power walk the carbohydrates left in my system not to gain more weight. Yes, I had began walking a couple of months ago, and I had began seeing the results. At least, I would sleep better, without acid reflux. A good night sleep was what I had secretly longed for already many years.

I went back to my assumed position in the party. My group was still talking about things I didn't understand, or secretly didn't want to.

"So, we heard you didn't have any friends", someone fired away

"Uh, I do have friends", I said

"Good", a girl standing to my right said

"I have friends, they just don't live here" I continued, "they are scattered all over the world, one lives in Germany, another one lives in Rio and there is one in Mexico, so I do have friends, they are my best friends, we just don't see each other as often as we would like"

"Why don't you have friends here?". A guy mumbled across from where I was standing

"It is difficult to connect with people with whom I don't share anything in common with", I said

"That sounds a bit weird, don't you think?", another girl asked me

"It does, I guess, but when you have decided to live things ahead of what you are supposed to, it makes perfect sense. You lose proximity with the rest of the people, but gain a stronger bond with those, who like me, have chosen their own path in life, rather than following what is expected from them, socially".

I was having a conversation with the people in the group of party goers. It wasn't a very productive talk, I gathered. However, I was interacting. But after so many Vodka drinks, my bladder was totally full and I needed to relieve it from such burden.

I sneaked away from the living room and headed towards the toilet.

As I opened the door, I found myself in a huge room, which was barely lit and had lots of gigantic mirrors above the sinks. Around the place where one is supposed to wash after doing their business  —or like me, before actually doing anything, because to be honest, I do not remember all the places where my hands have been— there were the urinals and cabins. 

All the cabins were in a pretty deplorable state. There walls, all sported punch holes, and some of them were falling apart.

I tried to find one with the best cover, as I am a very shy individual and at least when pissing, I like my privacy.

Once I did, I began to unzip my pants. 

But for some reason, lots of guys came into the toilets and began searching for a place where to get rid of all their alcoholic urine. So in question of seconds, before I had even start, a guy was pounding on the door of the cabin I was in, shouting: "hey, come one, I need to piss".

I saw how the other cabins on the right and on the left became occupied and I could see the guys staring at me while they pissed their beer and their liquors. I couldn't even start. I was a shy motherfucker trapped inside a toilet cabin, being watched and being expected to finish pissing real soon.

"What a nightmare", I thought to myself.

Hermes Coldwell

31.12.2017

Holy Shit!

It had been 3 years since my best friend disappeared. The last time I saw him was in Alterna, a bar near my flat which served as meeting point for students from the local university and other entities such as me and my friends.

We went there every weekend, not only because it was cheap, but because their playlist sounded as it had been created by me, or as if they had cloned my iPod and were playing all what we loved night after night.

It had been 3 years since my best friend had vanished. The last time we were together we drank beer and whiskey sours. We smoked camel blues and puffed on weed on occasion. We had been planning a trip out of the big city as we needed to get away from the stress and the monotony of the every day life we had become slaves to.

I am Terrified by IAMX began playing on the sound system. Chris Corner sang:

I am terrified, I think too much

I get emotional when I drink too much

I buy every cry, 'cause I don't trust

I am terrified, I think too much

We continued to plan. 

Our master plan began to take form. It made sense, we had to do it, the stress was killing us. I was a little bit stronger than he ever was, yet, that night, I felt as if we were in sync and we were meant to do this.  

Two more shots of Jack arrived at our table and we swallowed them without mercy.

I have to pee, he said

Yeah, I replied

And Hermes went to the toilet. And I sat there, waiting and staring at my phone waiting for someone to ring, text or something.

I'm so empty

You're all I'm thinking about, about

Oh oh, about, about

Oh oh oh, about, about

Oh oh oh, about, about

I'm so empty sang Shirley Manson, She sang until her voice faded away and her next streaming single hit the sound system.

I sat there and sipped on my beer. I played candy crush and liked some shitty pictures on Instagram. I even endorsed some shitty abilities of people on LinkedIn.

I sat there for some time. A new beer soon appeared on  my table. Shirley Manson has stopped singing long ago. And there I had drunk a lot of beer. So I decided to hit the toilets and release the pressure. 

I stood up and tried my best to walk straight. I didn't want people to know that I was feeling tipsy and that I couldn't handle my alcohol. I made it to the entrance door. Then I continued to the toilets.

I pushed the door open and walked in. I looked around and the place was empty. Nobody was there. All the doors to the toilet were open. I was all alone in there. 

I couldn't hold it any longer so I jumped to the urinals and unzipped my pants.

And as I was doing my business I saw it.

On the wall mosaic. A pink square. Amid the rest of them all. And I remembered Hermes saying that the one pink square had been calling him out.

I finished pissing. I shook my penis. My friend was gone.

Coldwell

8.6.2016

Pissing

It was Friday afternoon. The typical end-of-the-week time when people get ready to kill the stress and drown the voids in their soul with cheap tequila and BMW shots. Yes, another Friday afternoon to kill the time away and feel like we have become more than what our fathers said we would.

A day in which who you have grown to become doesn't really matter. As you carefully select the crowd you want to hang out with and the place that will serve as a background to your faceless selfies and to your faceless selves.

Goddamned Fridays, I hated them. I hated my friends. They lied, The were fake. But on Fridays I am ready to just get wasted. So I don't really care who I am with. 

I am the one who puts together the parties. The one who organizes the binge. The one who calls and twits everyone not to miss the drowning.

The drowning, that's what I call our Fridays together. The drowning has been happening since I arrived in this city. Almost 9 years ago. That's quite a lot of drowning and pretend. But it's Friday and no one cares. 

I am the master DJ, the king of the booze and the prince of self mutilation and black humor jokes. Like a Hollywood voice over, I always enjoyed saying what the others were thinking. Until last Friday, when I discovered one of them had been pretending to be my friend just to get close to me.

Just to see if my good life could rub off on her.

It felt like a knife carving its way into my heart. Like a check with insufficient funds. It hurt a lot.

"Hey",out of nowhere she said to me, "wanna go somewhere more private?", she asked.

"Sure", I replied, "I just need to go to the men's room. You piss the shit out of me."

Dick Pound

15.5.2015

If I Could, I Would Hover While He's Making Love To You

I always had a handsome and very well-endowed cock, In Junior High, whenever us boys had our wielding workshop hour, and the ranging hormones would make the teen aged guys show off their cocks, and their masturbation techniques, I was king.

I do not know if it was genetics. I was taller than my father. I had relatively smaller feet than the rest. But my cock was huge and porn-like shaped. They all admired it. But to me, it was a big problem, all puns intended. To fit in the skinny jeans that were in at the time made it impossible for me to sit normally. But I indeed liked the bulge in my crotch. Nicely shaped and apparently, both boys and girls enjoying looking at it.

I had never had any problem with my penis. On the contrary, it had always been an advantage all throughout my life. Until the day I went to visit my best friend in Berlin.

I arrived in Berlin. It was my first time in Europe. I had some friends in the capital of Germany and I was in town for a few days visiting them. 

I felt sexy in Berlin. I thought I fit right in. The streets and buildings were all very different. The people weren't as I had always imagined Germans. They were relaxed and somewhat friendly. The autumn leaves were everywhere on the ground padding my every step towards sex, drugs and rock music.

I lit a blue camel up and puffed while I headed down Eisenbahnstraße.

I entered the Black Bar. The only thing that wasn't black were the golden bird cages decorating the tables. Rammstein echoed in the blackness if this place.

"Der Jüngling steigt den Berg mit Qual

Die Aussicht ist ihm sehr egal

Hat das Röslein nur im Sinn

Bringt es seiner Liebsten hin"

My friends were sitting at the very back of the bar. They drank beer and smoked the same brand of cigarettes like me. No wonder why I had chosen them to be my friends. They had been there in my darkest hours. And they had always liked me and I think they also liked to secretly look at my bulge. I didn't mind.

We drank and caught up with our lives after years of not having seen each other. We drank beer and 

Jägermeister chasers. We drank White Russians and talked about how different our lives had become. You see, after High School, the world changes your. You do things that set you apart from the rest and sometimes you cannot related to the people anymore. But not us. We talked about fucking, drinking and drugs,

We were a successful bunch that distance could not keep apart. 

We talked about going to a sex club after midnight. We talked about a bar that has a needle dispenser for junkies. And we smoked weed.

I asked my friends about the local costumes and about the food. Sausages and Sour Kraut. Beer and Berlin. Too much drinking had led me to have a full bladder ready to leave my body.

So I headed to the men's room. To my surprise, there was only one bathroom. 

A unisex bathroom, that's cool, I thought.

The walls were black, the sink was black and even the toilet was black. But there was no urinal.

So I unzipped my jeans and walked towards the toilet seat only to find a sign. There were no words written, only a stick man pissing standing up crossed out. 

When in Rome, do as the Romans do, I thought. So I sat and tried to piss sitting down.

What an ordeal. My cock, being porn-like big did not fit inside the toilet with me sitting down.

I thought of how horrible it would be for me to catch some disease in my cock for having touched the bowl with my dick.

Fuck, I said.

I stood up and pissed standing.

What was a guy with a big cock like me supposed to do while taking a leak in a Berlin toilet? 

Hrms Etc

30.11.2014

I will destroy you

I headed to the toilet
I took my penis out
I began pissing
The music outside played:

"I was born into this

Everything turns to shit

The boy that you loved is the man that you fear

Peel off all those eyes and crawl into the dark,

You've poisoned all of your children to camouflage your scars

Pray unto the splinters, pray unto your fear

Pray your life was just a dream

The cut that never heals

Pray now baby, pray your life was just a dream

The world in my hands, there's no one left to hear you scream

There's no one left for you"

I remembered all my friends and hoes

I remembered all my friends and enemies

I liked pissing

I liked getting rid of all my father's scars
I prayed my life was just a dream
The cut that never heals
The smile that nonone ever sees

Hrms Coldwell

24.08.14

Go On & Smile, You Cunt!

Waking up to the forever-painful-reminder-of-having-drunk-way-too-much-wine-and-having-smoked-way-too-many-cigarettes-and-more-than-one-puff-of-white-widow was, strangely enough, becoming a habit.

It was 10:17 am and the birds were singing outside. I could hear their goddamn conversations as if they were sitting next to my left ear. I was always able to hear better with my left ear. It was like when women tell you that one of their tits is bigger than the other, or when serious looking people tell you that they have one arm or leg longer than the other. But for men, it's always the balls. One is always hanging lower than the other 'cuz it's bigger and produces more sperm, so that is why it's bigger and heavier. For me, it was my hearing abilities. I could hear better with my left ear.

I was still drunk, sweaty and I had this strong urge to piss. I could't get up. It hurt to even think. The noise outside felt like atom bombs exploding inside my skull. This had to be what if fells like when you die, or when you are born. Everything was so painful. The light, the sounds, the thoughts. Had I been born again?

I tried to recall the events that took place the night before. I just remembered I had tons of red wine. Fuck, I needed a cigarette. 

I managed to get out from the painful comfort of my own bed. I looked for a cigarette in a futile attempt to numb myself out of this all. I searched everywhere but apparently i had ran out of smokes. Deep inside my shoulder bag there was an almost destroyed joint. Not what I had been longing for but definitely something I could puff on, and maybe something that would help the pain go away.

I took out my zippo lighter and lit the crooked joint. I began smoking mother nature's remedy.

Soon I felt better. As if I had just begun feeling the booze kick in. It was nice. So I made my way into the toilet. I needed to release some pressure from my bladder. I lowered my briefs and took my cock out. I never liked wearing boxers. I had always liked to keep my cock and balls concealed into a nice bulging shape. Hence avoiding the uncomfortable feeling of my nuts jumping all round when I danced.   

I was sweating alcohol. With my left hand I held the joint. With my right one I held my cock. I puffed another white cloud of this miraculous medicine. I looked down and tried to aim my piss at the center of the toilet bowl. I didn't want to miss the spot. 

A nice, almost transparent discharge of piss came out of my cock making me feel  somewhat aroused. 

This was the side effects of drinking too much red wine, I thought.

I could smell the alcohol leaving my body in the form of urine. I exhaled what seemed to be a white wind whirl byproduct of the widow I was smoking.

I continued to piss. And as I did, I could feel my cock getting harder and harder. The feeling that you get when your cock is getting bigger, in your hand, someone else's mouth or in your pants, is something so amazing to try to describe it.

I began shaking my dick, as men always do when they are done pissing. All I could think of was my friend's almost wise words: "A mouth is a mouth. As long as a mouth is wrapped around your cock, you don't really care if it's a dude's or a chick's". All I could think of was that I wanted a mouth to suck on my hard cock. Goddamn red wine, I thought. It always makes me so fucking horny. I began to masturbate.

As I continued stroking I realized that this was not my toilet. And that someone had been standing behind the ajar doors long enough to catch a glimpse of me and my cock. 

A mouth is a mouth, I thought to myself.

Dick Pound

4.22.2014

Rhapsodizing In The Men's Room

I was ready to go out that night. Friday night. A long awaited time that repeated itself every 144 hours. The week was stressful enough not to focus all my might on the glorious Friday nights. 

Ready like any other day I spritzed my favorite cologne all over my neck, chest and finally all over my black leather jacket. I was ready.

Off I went. The red moon shone down on me. Hole's music was my soundtrack that evening. I loved the way the screaming 3-riff master pieces of Miss Love would make me feel when I walked through the darkness when I went drinking.

The first time I heard of Hole was in high school. During my angsty years. I would lock myself inside my own world and write stories and verses. Enjoying every moment of dread and fear. Enjoying the darkest moments of that part of my life. Learning their songs on my guitar and bass and performing each one of their songs just for myself.

I opened the doors of A1. I descended into a loud ever-changing cloud of light, smoke and music. I took my headphones off. Rolled the cable around them and carefully placed them inside my black leather shoulder bag. I paused my iPod and continued to walk down the stairs. 

Laser beams illuminated the haze above me and all around me. My friends were waiting for me at our usual table. Like every other Friday night. A nice cold pint of beer was already there waiting for me at my place. 

Cheers!!!, we shouted. And the night had officially begun.

My friends knew that I was a quiet person from time to time. They knew this and they didn't have any problem with me just sitting next to them. I, occasionally gave voice to thoughts and I was glad they would listen and appreciate my short moments articulated clarity.

It was Hole night. At least in my head. The laser beams turned blood red and The Pretty Reckless began playing. 

"Evil knocking at my door 

Evil making me its whore 

I don't mind if you take what's yours 

But give me mine"

Taylor Momsem began teasing my brain with her wrecking verses. The night had turned into a mosh pit,a full-on, drinks and spinning heads. The party had just become a Friday night party. 

"How you like me now?

Did I succeeded in making you proud?"

I began pissing. The darkness echoed through the walls of the toilet of A1. I was all alone. I could hear the crowd moving to the beat of the rumbling guitars of Momsen. I was all alone. Deep inside my own self. 

I like you alright and I am proud of you. I thought to myself.

Hrms Etc

15.4.2014

Don't Break My Heart

Another night out. Another lover added to the list. I had already made it to the international club. This time it didn't matter. The frustration of not having someone in my bed just to wake up to had led me to ask the direct question: "Would you like to spend the night with me in my flat, no sex, no kissing, just you sleeping in bed next to me. I need someone to spend the night with. I don't want to wake up alone tomorrow. Give it a try, won't you?"

It had worked. And I woke up to the sunlight at around 5 am. My head ached. I craved a cigarette. My flat was quiet. The Saturday morning light blinded my brown eyes. I never lowered the blinds because I was afraid my cats would destroy them. 

I felt something warm next to me. I didn't even bother to look at the person sleeping next to me. I had accomplished something I had been longing for too much. Yet I felt empty. I felt like a cheat. It felt wrong. I felt like if I had cheated destiny. It didn't feel right. I had coerced an unsuspecting someone into fulfilling a fantasy, a dark dream. I felt like a vampire. I felt dirty. Even if i had not done anything carnal. I felt like if I wanted to die. I had desired this for way too long. It felt wrong.

I stood up and moved quietly towards the kitchen. I was ready to brew coffee. The morning coffee. I hesitated. I was not ready nor willing to do it this time. It was a move I didn't feel right that morning. So I crept into the bathroom like a shadow escaping the light. 

I closed the door shut. I sighed. "If I Was Your Vampire" by Marilyn Manson started playing in my head.

"This is where it starts.

This is where it will end.

Here comes the moon again."

"This is not what I want my life to be all about", I thought while washing my face with ice-cold water. I took a look at the mirror and I saw the sad me reflected in my brown eyes. I saw the sadness. I saw myself. I didn't want this.

I must have stared at myself for way to long that by the time I left the bathroom, I was alone with my cats and  my face was sporting an empty smile.

17.02.2014

Immanuel Kant

Ephemeral, Something Missing

I opened my eyes. I was in the darkness of my mother's house. I couldn't tell the time. It was dark and the only things I could see where the shapes of the furniture that had been unmoved since her passing.

The air had a particular smell. I remembered that scent. I managed to go upstairs without tripping over anything. I was careful and I was afraid I would know something down and break it.

I reached my mother's bedroom. I didn't have to open the door as she never did. The doors to her room were always open. This time was not the exception The doors were wide open as she had never left. 

It had been many years since I had been in this place. So many memories. So much love. So much I couldn't move. 

Tears began rolling down my eyes. I reached for the lights. I was in the toilet. On the floor. And I was so sad. So many thing I would have liked to tell her. if only I had known that she would leave me. If I had known that, what would I have said, or done to make her happier. 

I lit a cigarette. I needed to smoke to make myself feel at least a little bit better.

A fire erupted from my zippo. It engulfed all the memories and thoughts I had been having. The fire consumed all my suffering and all the longing for being there and when it ended I had been born again. And she was there to hold my hand again. She put my head on her chest. And her heart I heard and felt.

Hrms Etc

17.2.2014

Let Me Out

"All my friends are embryonic

All my friends are dead and gone

All my friends are microscopic

All my friends wake up alone"

Hole's song began shaking the walls of the bar. The crowd continued to drink. Beer is often a powerful medicine that allows the quiet to interact in ways no one could expect expect. 

"Gutless...you're gutless

You're gutless...you're gutless"

Love continued to roar through the sound system. 

I was in good company, like most of the times I went out to drown myself in booze. Unlike the rest of them there, drinking as an outlet, was not for me to numb my shyness but to dull the voices in my head. Unlike being in high school and drinking to get fucked up, I learned to drink to get to that state of mind in which I am mostly relaxed. At time quiet and observant.Yet thoughtful and disguised in the shadows of the world.

Courtney's song faded in the blackness of Melodka, the bar I was at that night. 

My companions were almost as thirsty as I was. Another round of beer and Jager appeared on our table and I lit another cigarette. I puffed on it and I exhale a large ever-changing cloud of grey nothingness. And I killed the shot of booze sitting next to my beer in a sigh.

It had been a long day. It had been a tough day. So I went to empty myself from all the voices, booze and urine. And then I was ready to do it again. I was free and I was feeling good.

Coldwell 

28.01.14

How To Use A Toilet (Explicit Version)

He would go to work every morning. Always on time. Always wore freshly ironed clothes with the right amount of cologne, not to draw too much attention but to leave a trail of sweetness in the air as he walked by. Every morning he would wake up to the 6:30 alarm clock. Like a Brit always on time. Exact and elegant.

His day would start up with him walking into the shower and for precisely 9 minutes, he would wash his body. The first thing was to get the water to the right temperature and then he would let it rinse him from head to toes. A gentle squeeze to the shampoo bottle to have just about enough to wash his grey short hair.

He would continue then with the shower gel. Always a different scent. For he had pretty much all the different available types of shower gel available in the market. He would scrub each inch of his aging body and he would do it in circles as instructed by his dermatologist.

After ironing his white Oxford shirt and putting his Bedford jacket on he would step into the kitchen to fix himself something to drink before hitting the street like any other normal day. A freshly brewed cup of coffee would get him started. Ready for yet another day at the office. He was calm and never said much.

One would notice his arrival to the office. He was always a very polite kind of man. A true gentleman.

"Good Morning everyone", he would say

"Hello, Dick", the secretary would reply.

"How was your romantic evening with your husband"

"Uneventful, he went on to explain to me the benefits of eating meat"

"Oh, he still doesn't understand that you will continue with your vegan food, huh?

"No, he refuses to understand that meat is murder"

"Well, have you prepared anything vegan for him yet?"

"He won't eat anything healthy, he is all about meat and potatoes, his breath reeks of death"

"Oh, And how's everything else?"

"Terrible, his cock won't get hard"

"Oh my"

"It is terrible. All I want is to have a baby so that I can have an excuse not to work in this shitty place"

"Yeah that is a good reason"

"But, Dick, what can I do for him to stop eating dead animals, and for his cock to work?

"Have you guys tried going to the doctor?"

"Yeah, I go there every week to have my colon cleaned, but he won't go with me. Only my mother understands the importance of having a clean and healthy colon"

The morning coffee would have already kicked in at this point of the conversation. Luckily for Dick, the age and caffeine didn't mix well anymore.

"Excuse me, I have to use the men's room", he said

"Oh, sure go ahead", the secretary said with a smile and a confusing wink.

This time, Dick was calm. He did not stare at the mirror. And  he did not cry and tremble as he would every time he had to use the toilet before proceeding with his manly business in the toilet. He went straight to the urinals and took a leak. After all the urine had gone down the drain, he moved back to the sink where he washed his hands, taking enough soap to create enough foam to get rid of all bacteria efficiently. Two paper towels would do the trick of wiping his hands dry. 

As he left the men's room that day and made his way back into his office, he thought about his plants at home and how lovely they all looked from outside his window. All placed strategically on the inner ledge of the window to have just about the right amount of light and shadow.

"Oh my gosh", an annoying loud voice came out from the main office, "don't you ...", bam, Dick closed the door behind him.

"Excuse me, I did not hear you", said Dick in his usual friendly way

"I said: Oh my gosh, don't you have a toilet in your flat?", replied his boss

"I do not follow", answered Dick

"Don't you have a fucking toilet in your flat?", shouted the female dressed in clothes that looked somewhat dirty as if she had slept with them on all night.

"Why do you always have to go to the office toilet every morning", she went on, "it is not possible that you do not have a toilet in your flat, for god's sake", she said.

"Right. About the toilet, I wanted to show you something. It is vital that you do something about this. You cannot let our clients see this. It is really strange. Won't you come with me?, Dick asked.

"Fuck, what now?, last week it was Meredith's menstruation's blood all over the ladies room. What now?. I bet you left a nasty and stinky floater. Fuck, Dick, can't you use a toilet correctly, flush the goddamn toilet. Why are you so fucking dumb?. I am surrounded by incompetent and ugly people. Look at me I am so fucking important. I run this office. Look at my legs, they are perfect. Men ask my for my phone number when I walk through the park. I am more beautiful that this vegan cunt behind the reception desk. Fuck, why am I surrounded by all you fucktards."

She stood up from the desk in the dark office where she pretended to work every day. She walked towards reception and signaled Dick with her right hand to go on and show her whatever he wanted her to see.

"Show me now, I do not have your time to be fucking around", she roared.

"This way", said Dick. "It is the strangest thing I have ever seen. You have to do something about it. It is disturbing, it makes me cry everyday." he said while leading the way into the toilets. The female followed mumbling something to herself. 

Once they were in the men's room, Dick pointed at one of the toilet cabins. She went in frowning in her usual way. Trying to look for whatever Dick had told her was there. She sniffed and moved her body as if she was a snake. Dick stood closely behind her. 

"What is it, Dick?", she said. "I do not see anything strange", she went on.

"Right there, next to the base, can 't you see it?", he replied.

Dick's boss bent over, and it was then when Dick jumped her, grabbing her by the neck and pushing her ugly face into the toilet bowl. She kicked and threw punches at the air. Dick was bigger and stronger than her.

"I do have a toilet in my flat", said Dick while using all his strength to keep his boss's face under the toilet water. "And no, you are not beautiful, you piece of shit, you are nothing but a terrible person", whispered Dick.

The woman kept on struggling. All in vain. 

"I will now be able to work in peace", Dick thought. "Everyone will be happier when you are gone, bitch."

There was water all over the floor. Dick grabbed his boss's head, lifted it and crushed it against the white toilet edge. Soon, all the struggle stopped. And blood started to gush as if it had been wanting to escape its vessel for quite some time now. Dick, an all English man, didn't want to make a mess, so he moved the head directing the blood right into the toilet bowl. Soon, he knew that she was dead and the world would be a better place.

Hermes Coldwell

21.3.13

(Dedicated to R.T)

 

Why Does It Hurt When I Pee?

Bang! I couldn't breath. His knee went straight into my gut. I stopped looking at him. All I could see was black and red and white and green and red again. 

All the years of karate lessons had been for nothing. There was nothing I could do but surrender and take it like a man. Hold the tears deep inside and just wait for it to end. 

Music played outside the toilets. It was Fucking In The Bushes by Oasis,

"Kids are running around naked, fuckin? in the bushes.

Kids are running around naked, fuckin? in the bushes.

Kids are running around naked, fuckin? in the bushes.

Kids are running around naked, fuckin? in the bushes"

Second and third blow to my face. I quickly wrapped my head and face with my arms in vain. Jab to my rib cage. Left hook. Right hook. 

I tried to focus on other thing rather than the fact of me being in the most terrible situation I had ever been. The music outside didn't help. "Fucking in the bushes?", I thought, "what the fuck?". All my friends were outside, drinking, laughing and enjoying our Friday get together and I was being used as punching bag in a dirty toilet in Zabovresky.

Graphic Nature by Deftones began playing on the old jukebox of that fucking bar. My head now was being used to hit my attacker's knee. I laughed inside. "I am beating the shit out of his knee, with my goddamn head!", I thought in a fucking sarcastic way.

"Leave your trail open 

Let me inside 

Guess I’m confused more or less 

She'd some light 

And tell me your secret 

How are you trained? 

I promise you I can keep it 

Go on explain… 

Tell me how you do it…now 

Your poison is glowing 

Against the night 

How can you lose"

Chino Moreno went on singing one of my favorite songs. I had been there for hours it seemed. Somehow I managed not to shout for help. I couldn't do anything. Not even throw a punch, try to bite his nose off, kill him.

My pants were unzipped as I was trying to take a leak when this beast decided to go berserk on me and turn me into a practice target. I must have pissed in my pants as he was quick to attack me from behind.

"Nemluvim Cesky", I told him when he grabbed me and turned me around to see my face. His breath stank like beer, piss and cigarettes. "Nemluvis?" he asked me. 

"Ne"

"Myslim ze jo, pico"

"Ja jsem Mexican", I pleaded.

"Ty pico", he said continuing with a sequence of blows directed to my abdomen.

I opened my eyes. I was on the floor right next to the toilet bowl. It was dark and music could be heard from afar. I couldn't make out what song it was. I fixed my eyes on the toilet just to see how badly damaged it was. 

"Fuck, what am I going to do now?", I said to myself. "Should I wait here a little bit longer?", I thought. All I wanted to do was to stand up and lock the door so that motherfucker wouldn't attack me again. 

So I managed to get up and close and lock myself inside. Once I had done that I reached for my phone on the left pocket of my pants and I took a picture of the blood I had spill all over the white toilet. "I need proof that I was attacked", I thought. 

Outside I began to hear screams and broken glass. I decided to wait until everything was quiet. I grabbed some toilet paper and rolled it in order to create a tampon like plug to stop my nose bleed. I used two squares of toilet paper for each nostril. I waited. 

Soon, somebody knocked at the door and I opened. It was a police officer. Someone had called the police and they stopped the guy who attacked me from continuing to beat my friends and everyone at the bar. His friends had ran away. My assailant, had jumped one of the police officers causing him to be sprayed with pepper and beaten with their batons. 

Once he was inside the police car, and everyone had given their statement we continued our Friday night by going to a different pub and drink the night away just to stop the pain at least for a while.

Hrms Etc

7.3.13

  

1979

I didn't have any friends during the first semesters of High School. I would wander around the campus looking at people. Looking at how happy they were. Hanging out and copying homework from the nerds. Planning parties and sharing adventures from the previous massive gatherings full on booze and loud music.

I didn't have any friends to walk around the school with. Nor did I have anyone to listen to the stories of a 15 year old friendless guy. Yes, I would spend most of the time at the computer lab, doing homework and surfing the internet. 

On the internet I would find the lyrics to all my favorite songs and learn them by heart. Occasionally, I would assist the class hacker with his daily schedule of playing pranks on the less knowledgeable people at the lab. It was fun, yet it was the only thing I could do to somehow interact with other people. 

I wanted a friend so badly that I would agree and cooperate with JC on installing Sub Zero on the computers so that it would be easier to perform his cyber magic. Nothing like deleting their homework, he had a policy of just having a good time opening the computers' cd tray or opening new browser windows displaying porn. Not just any porn, but the kind of porn that would make a 15 year old stare at the screen in a not-so-well-defined state of disgust and amazement. It was fucking funny to see their reactions and even funnier when one of guards would caught them staring at that pussy dripping cum from Smutland's home page. Indeed, good time to remember, just not enough.

After having had a hilarious time at the computer lab, JC's friends would come and pick him up and disappear outside in the crowd. I would then continue searching for cool pictures of my favorite anime characters.

After finishing my homework for the next day and having printed out lots of lyrics to all my favorite bands' songs I would head downstairs to the cafeteria stand in the main campus square of High School. I would always buy a Sincronizada which consisted of a flour tortilla, mashed beans, ham and cheese and carefully warmed up in a microwave oven. I would then pay and walk to the least crowded place. If I was lucky, I would find an empty bench to sit on and enjoy my lunch. If luck was not on my side I would walk towards the gardens behind the main building of my school and eat my food with great relish.

Then I would go to the toilet. I really liked to use those toilets. They were like hotel toilets. Always clean and with a fresh smell. Soap was always available and they were large and the doors of the cabins locked. And nobody would disturb you while taking a crap.

Most of the times when I went to the toilet, they were empty, which gave me more freedom of taking all the time in the world to get rid of breakfast patiently. But not that day. That day I went inside, opened the cabin's door and checked for toilet paper. I had once ran out of toilet paper and I had to quickly change cabins so that I was able to finish cleaning my asshole. That they as I pull my pants down and sat, some people came inside.

There were two guys I could tell. I sat quietly and listened. The quickly opened the doors to the toilet cabins and locked them in a jiff. I sat there and tried not to make any noise. They continued to talk about football. It hit me then. They were from the school team. They were from university. It was cool that two guys went together to take a dump in the toilet. I fantasized about cool it would be to have a friend to share something as private as shitting with. How long had they been friends to have actually found out that it was ok for them to poo at the same time at the same toilet?. 

Then, one of them started pushing harder. And a fart came out from his asshole. The sound was loud and it echoed in the emptiness of the second floor men's' room. I sat in awe. How could anyone just fart so loudly when they know they are not alone?, I thought. Then the second guy said: "Dude, that's nothing", and he let escape an even louder fart. The first one laughed. What went on was that both of them were competing to win the crown of the loudest fart of that day.

I didn't know what to think. On one hand I thought that those two guys were friends. And to me, friendship was much more than sharing loud stinky gas explosions product of a spicy breakfast. But, the idea of sharing something that most people deem disgusting and embarrassing with someone else seemed to be true friendship. 

They went on until there was no more gas to be drained and no more shit to splash against the inside of the bowl. I heard them talk about their coach and their shitty tests' results. I heard the toilet paper being pulled and unrolled. And then I heard them flush their toilets, open the doors, walk to the sinks and wash their hands. It was all done with laughter and normal conversation. 

Soon they were gone and alone in the privacy of my toilet cabin I sat. Wondering if I would ever share my farts in the same fashion with anyone.

Hrms Etc

19.2.13

Shit Happens

The night seemed to last forever. And there I was. The O2 Arena was full of the most bizarre people I had ever seen. All gathered there to dance to the beats of Paul Van Dyk. It was not a place I would have chosen to be that night or any other night. In fact, I never thought I would ever pay to attend such a concert. I was more of a rock music type. Beer, smokes and at least 3 power-chord songs decorated with spit and vomit would make my day.

But no, I was at an Electronic concert. I was an alien to the whole subculture. People there didn't look normal. What was normal anyway?. I must admit that some of the attendees had a good taste for looking somewhat off. They all looked like the cool kids in my high school thought they looked like, even though they never quite did.

The place was huge and it was full of people, mostly wearing white clothes with a touch of darker colors giving them a slick accent that in the dark of the night certainly seemed attractive to the eye. They were practitioners of the Techno lifestyle deception. Mystifying their flaws under million lights shining the darkness away for short whiles. Covering up their scars and empty carcass like bodies with make up and expensive looking garments. 

There was something odd to this crowd. It was not the kind of music they adored. The music was ok. There was something wrong and obscure. I couldn't figure it out. So I moved to the bar, located at the side of the dance floor. Surprisingly enough, getting booze was easier than I had expected. People were everywhere, but the bar was not on their map.

"One beer", I said.

"One hundred crowns please", replied a lady with pink hair. 

One hundred crowns, for a beer, "that's fucking expensive", I said to myself. I took my wallet out of my green converse bag and reached for a 200kc bank note. I paid and grabbed my plastic cup with beer inside and I walked back to my spot near the stage.

Again, it was quite easy to move back and forth from my place by the stage to the bar and back again. This was something new to me. There was no mosh pit and people pushing their sweaty bodies against mine at all time just to be closer to the stage to catch a glimpse of their favorite rock stars.

People were everywhere, but it seemed that they had a designated spot to dance freely with no human touch to bother them. Without mixing the salty sweat of the ones around them. For God's sake!, not even spit was being projected out from their mouths. It was organized chaos. And they all looked perfectly in their white pants and white tank tops.

I kept on repeating my routine of going to the bar and getting beer with no effort. "It is great", I thought. The music continued and the people never stopped dancing. My feet hurt. The show was boring. Instead I decided to watch the people around me and try to learn some new steps for the next time I had to dance. They danced in ways I had never seen people from this country dance like. There was something totally wrong about the whole thing.

After 4 beers I decided to hit the toilets. 

That was a journey. Unlike going to the bar for beer refills.

It was like everyone had to go to piss at the same time. "Maybe there is free goodies", I thought. After having pushed my way through I stepped inside one of the many men's rooms.

There were no free goodies. In fact inside the party had taken a different turn. And then, only then, all my suspicions came to an end. 

There were about 10 urinals lined up on the left across from the toilet cabins. There were 5 sinks and a huge empty white hall. All the urinals were taken. All the doors to the cabins were locked. I had to wait in a well organized queue. Behind me, still queuing, the guys danced to their favorite tunes. At the sinks, the guys danced as they washed their hands. And at the urinals, the guys decided to stop dancing and concentrate on something which seemed to be the cause of this party being different.

"Hey, do you have some cocaine?", asked the guy behind me

"Hmmm, no I don't sorry", replied politely

"What about some speed?", he went on

"I am out of speed", I said, trying to fit in

"Anything to smoke?" he inquired

"Just cigarettes"

"Can I have one?", I nodded and gave him one. I took my lighter out and lit a small greenish flame. He lowered his head and lit his cigarette.

"Thanks", he said while exhaling a large cloud of carbon monoxide.

"Yeah, sure", I said and turned around trying to find an empty spot for my urine. 

"Hey, care for some weed?", he asked

"Hmmm, yeah why not" I fired back, "do you have any?"

"No, I don't, but my friend has some good shit"

"Well, let me pee and I'll meet you outside"

"OK"

Some dude finished doing business with the urinal and walked back to the concert hall. It was my turn to finally piss the shit out of that urinal. 

So, I unzipped my pants and took my penis out. Oh it was good, too much beer had to be drained from my system. Then, I heard a loud moan. It was the guy taking a leak right next to me, on my left side. I couldn't avoid turning my head and looking at him. With his right hand he was rubbing something on his gums, and with his left hand he was holding a large cock that was far from passing unnoticed, even if you are one of those men who do not like to look at other men's tools at the toilets. 

"Damn", I thought, "is it hard or is it just a big chunk of manhood he is holding out there?". He went on moaning. His breath became harder and shorter as if he felt an orgasm coming. I directed my sight back on my business. Then I turned my head to the right, and saw that the guy next to me was also looking at Moaner, and then at his cock. And then I saw on his face the same expression I thought I had made when I saw that tremendous dick.

The guy on my right quickly finished pissing. Moaner continued to moan."He must be having a pig orgasm", I thought. Immediately, the urinal on my right was being used, or abused again. And I continued to urinate. 

Soon I heard a sound similar to what tic tacs make when you take them and place them on the palm of your hand. Everyone in that place was doing drugs. Moaner seemed to have finished as the moaning had stopped. His place filled up almost immediately. I was nearly done too. So I shook my dick, concealed it back into its place and headed to the sinks.

It was then when I heard it. An angry woman shouted: "Fuck you, I told you not to come inside", I halted as the door from one cabin opened and reveled a young woman in her 20s storming out with her face smeared with different fluids and colors. The guy sat on the toilet with his pants down and a face full of disappointment.

"These people certainly know how to party like rock stars", I said to myself. "Will I end up doing something similar if I smoke that joint?". I washed my hands and left to get myself a nice cold beer and continue to enjoy the decadent party that still had lots to offer.

Coldwell

5.2.13

In The Middle

I sat uncomfortable at our table. There were strangers and our nights had become somewhat inclusive. However, I really miss the way those nights unrolled. There was no work talk. Not that anyone cared about it but I think I kinda did. We would talk about France and wine tasting. Ostrava and its night life. Mexico and the fact that nobody rides donkeys when they commute.

I liked this place. Rodeo Drive had become the place to go after work. The food was totally different from what you could find everywhere else. Beer? I didn't really care as long as it kept on coming. I liked to have Fish & Chips. The real thing? nah, but it did the trick. Tasty and plentiful.

This night offered more than the usual. In addition to the French man, the German and the Czechs. An American newcomer happened to be there. Sitting right next to me. I had seen him before at McDonald's carrying a food tray with more food that I could ever even think of buying. Even for two people. It was too much food. "Maybe he is here with a group of friends from work", I thought to myself while waiting in line and following him with my eyes. "No, he is alone", I sighed.

Most of the conversations would start with my stories. Sometimes the Czechs would share information on new places where we could meet up the following Friday. Sometimes the French one would surprise us with his thick accent and a joke. I really never had a problem with his accent, but he would often ask us if his accent in English was American or truly British. We didn't care. We liked him for who he was and his accent would always put a childish smile on our tired faces.

Sometimes, we would make plans for the weekend. Not that night. That night went towards one of the most bizarre nights I had ever lived through.

"Circumcision", someone said. We all looked at the American. He went on by expressing how sad he was of not having had the choice, when he was born, of saying no to the removal of his foreskin. The German quickly try to change the topic of conversation by talking about french vineyards. Of the beautiful weather of south France in the summer. French cheese, "it is delicious", she emphasized with a mouthwatering sound. Her plan did not work at all. American boy had our attention.

"That's why next Spring, I will have my foreskin reattached", he said. We all were in for a hell of a story. A friend of mine removed her glasses and stared at him. She was intrigued by such statement. Somebody asked foreskin guy, "wouldn't it hurt a lot?, I mean, to..." she paused. I was just sitting there waiting for the right words not to sound like a complete dick. Pun intended.

There we were, at our favorite place discussing foreskins and skin grafting to cover some dick's second head up with skin from some unfortunate organ donor whom American Foreskin dude hoped had the same complexion. "It has to look natural",he added.

"All I want to do after my surgery is to go to some baseball game", he said, "like the Yankees or the Cubs"."Man up", I said to myself. 

"Are you from from New York?", I asked

"No, I am from California", he replied

"And you like the Yankees?", I continued

"No, I just can't help to imagine what it would be like to be there for a game"

"Yeah, lots of people, I don't like places with more people than it is necessary"

"Listen, every time I am pissing", he paused, "I have this urge"

"Urge?"

"Yeah, I have always thought about doing it"

Everyone was there just listening to our little conversation. It was like when you were a child and someone would go and tell you a horror story about some brutal killer on the loose, and the narrator would just continue to elaborate a story that is supposed to be short. The killer kills and that's it. Yet a good narrator always builds up a state or condition of mental uncertainty or excitement, as in awaiting a decision or outcome,usually accompanied by a degree of apprehension or anxiety. He was a good one, even though his story was about his trying to put a hood on his German war helmet.

"You have always thought about doing what?", I inquired

"You know, when I am pissing, especially in a public toilet, I always use the urinal in the middle"

"Go on", said one of my friends

"So, yeah, I wanna go to a Yankees games, and during the 7th inning, head to the men's room. Imagine how packed it would be", His eyes shone in excitement

"I would go straight into the men's room, unzip my pants, take out a gigantic black dildo and slap it against the urinal"

Everyone went mute. 

"Imagine the other guys' reaction", he added.

"It has to be one of those stainless steel urinals", he continued, "Imagine the sound it'd make".

Coldwell

22.1.13

The Devil Is In All Of You

My phone kept on ringing. I left it on the table. And took several hits of rum. The ice had already melted but my drink was nicely cold. The goddamn phone kept on ringing. Nobody ever bothered to call me and ask how I was or that shit. But tonight it was ringing. Somebody wanted to talk to me. And I didn't. 

I never considered myself to be a bad person, let alone rude or uncaring. Friends always told me that I should learn how to be assertive.  But I just didn't want to answer that phone call. I took another hit of Bacardi and washed it down with beer. I could feel the booze making its way into my system, slowly but surely. It felt good. 

I noticed that my phone had stopped ringing. I turned it off. My ipod was in my bag, on the chair next to mine. I reached inside my green Converse bag and grabbed it. I managed to untangle the headphone's cable and I put them on. I liked this place, Mandragora, a run-down rock pub with a broken PA system. The perfect place for me to get on with my writing.

I enjoyed being there. Cheap booze, darkness and pictures of rock bands no one had ever heard of before hung perfectly from the slimy walls. Decoration or just a vain attempt to cover up the filth of these walls, I thought. I liked slimy walls better, I smirked.

I had shared this place with only a few people. They never liked it. It stinks like piss, one said. The other two had a posh attitude towards everything and they rated this bar as a shit hole. I didn't care. I can be here by myself, I thought. I enjoyed being alone. With some drinks and my notebook. Alone was ok.

I began writing some lines. It was November 2010. I kept on drinking. Another beer?, the waiter asked me. And a shot of Absinth, I replied.

Soon the drinks were on the table, right next to my black leather notebook. I wrote and wrote. Cold Red Light by IAMX was playing. I felt the energy flow through my skin towards my fingertips. I was writing something that wasn't part of what I had intended to write. I had had some beers and I was shooting up absinth straight into my blood.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them I was heading towards the toilet. It stank of shit and cigarettes. But I didn't care. The doors of the toilet actually locked. Something unusual about toilets of places like this. I liked to be able to lock myself in the bathroom and do my business without having to care about being interrupted by drunk patrons of Mandragora.

I was there. I wiped clean the toilet seat. I unzipped my pants and pulled them down. I sat down. I wasn't sure if I wanted to shit or just to piss. It didn't matter. Marilyn Manson began to play.

"Hey, cruel world…You don’t have what it takes

We don’t need your faith.

We’ve got fucking fate."

I sat there looking at the walls of this one toilet I was at. There was nothing new to see. Stickers of Anti Fascism and graffiti. I checked to see if there was enough toilet paper. There was plenty. I was fine.   

"The center of the universe

Cannot exist

When there are no,

No edges"

Manson sang. And I listened. Then the middle eight of the song kicked in. I could hear some people outside. I could make out some banging. I could only think. Are they fighting?. Should I stay in here?. Should I call the police?. Fuck, I thought, I don't know what to do. I heard some screaming. The banging got louder and so did the song. I will stay here, I said to myself. There is no way I am going to open this door now. I paused the song. I removed my headphones. The shouting got quieter and quieter. And in an instant, it was quiet as a grave.

I waited. I pulled my pants up and tried to peek through one of the cracks the door bore as a signature of violence and of bravery. There was nobody outside. At least no one I could see. I thought of running away from that place. I thought of the fact that I still had to pay for what I had ingested. I thought of leaving the bathroom and being blamed for the raucous. Shit, I thought of being mauled by the ferocious men that instants ago had been fighting in this very place. 

I opened the door and the first thing I saw was a man lying on the floor. There was no blood. Only piss and paper towels everywhere. I left the toilet as quickly as I could. They Waiter was at my table replenishing my beer. I waved at him, and signal him to come with me. He did. 

He stopped right outside the toilet and right in front of me. What? he asked. There was a fight, I said, and a man is on the floor, I continued. He opened the door and went inside. I followed. He stooped down and put his hand on the man's neck. He went on, this man is deceased.

Hrms Etc

8.1.13