Poison tipped darts in the men’s restroom

PWhen something that I’ve grown accustomed to suddenly changes, I usually say something like “awwww, man!” Take for instance the pleasant fragrance that was once emitted from the automatic air freshener dispenser in our office building’s men’s restroom. One wouldn’t ordinarily associate a sweet, fresh smell with a men’s restroom. Our building’s men’s restroom is an exception. 95% of the time, I would walk into the restroom and smell the wonderful smell that a little automatic wall-mounted canister of industrial-grade air freshener would spritz out on it’s little schedule. The other 5% of the time I would be met by the smell of what very easily could have been the byproduct of rancid armadillo and bleu cheese stew.

But really, I liked the smell of the air freshener that had been used in the restroom for the past couple of months. I seriously contemplated standing on the sink basin and opening up the dispensing mechanism to find out what brand and fragrance flavor air freshener was used. I wish I had. Today the fragrance flavor is different. Now I feel lost when going to the restroom. It’s bad enough that I can’t seem to convince myself that there are not Indiana-Jones-and-the-Temple-of-Doom-like poison tipped darts being shot into the back of my neck from above the bathroom’s mirror…

You see, even though I generally enjoy my 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. bathroom experiences due mainly to the associated aromatic pleasantness, like clockwork I get the bejesus scared out of me while ‘tending to business’. Invariably, while I’m standing before the urinal, that sweet aroma dispensing mechanism spits its nectar into the confines of the restroom. When this happens there is a distinct and wet aural puff not much unlike the sound that is heard when a tribesman shoots a dart through his blowgun and into the jugular vein of a small woodlands creature. Every time I hear that noise, I think I’m being shot in the back of the neck with a blowgun dart. I’m here to tell you that that kind of nervousness can lead to some pretty serious performance anxiety. I don’t know who would want to shoot me in the back of the neck with a blowgun dart. And to do that while answering the call of nature is beyond me. Perhaps I’m seen as a threat to the people of the Sweet Smelling Men’s Restroom Tribe. They’re trying to get me when I’m most vulnerable. That’s why I now carry a machete. You should see the looks on peoples faces when they see me walking down the hall and into the restroom. They just don’t understand what I’m up against.