59 Pancakes

Sometimes I like to go to 2nd or 3rd floor to go to the bathroom. I work on the 1st floor and the bathroom can get a little crowded. So, if upstairs doing something work related and I get a small inkling from my bowels or bladder, I’ll detour and go to the bathroom.

Last week I was in the second floor bathroom. While I pee’d, strange sounds were coming from the stall, but this was not unusual. Most guys (I can only speak for my gender) are used to various grunt and groans emitting from bathroom stalls when somebody is taking a crap. It’s not pleasant, but it common. When grunts are mixed with pleading (“Come on, man Come on.”), I finish my business and get out of there. Gross.

These sounds were not normal. A mixture of mumbling, squeaking and wild laughing, I figured it was a challenged individual in the stall, as we utilize challenged groups at work. I had heard these sounds before.

The squeaking was abruptly interrupted with a yell: “59 pancakes!” It was brilliant and startling. I could only assume the individual had a hell of a breakfast and was now paying the price.

A co-worker walked in and pushed open the door to the adjacent stall, not knowing what had just happened. A few seconds later, the familiar sound of flatulence escaped under the door of his stall. Immediately, a cry of laughter came from the next stall. 59 pancakes thought this was funny. As I left, my poor co-worker did his best to hold it in.