common criminal you are. That is, after I reclaim my vehicle, of
course.”
There was nothing for her to say. Harvey smugly closed the door,
standing in front of it to prevent her trying to slip by him. Shaking his
pants off a little, he turned his attention to the flyer posted on the
outside of the stall door. It was neatly laid out in a tasteful graphic
fashion, employing typefaces that were meant to look as if they had
been aged by centuries of wear and tear, providing a timeless, almost
pagan appearance. It was a notice from Don Wong himself, no less.
Harvey examined the short message. It read:
A MESSAGE FROM DON WONG,
FOUNDER of PANGAEA
The crapper is our common link, amigos. Remember that when
you sit down here. Presidents of countries, emperors, even some
mythological deities have been known to enjoy a daily squat.
Remember that first and foremost, we are processors: we take in
resources and we poop out waste. Every American creates more
than twice their own weight in waste every day. And while some
of that crap makes our lives easier, it all ends up as waste sooner
or later. It is what we do with this waste that makes us truly
righteous, even holy. Holy shit: you think it’s a joke? Well it’s as
big a joke as the one we’re playing on ourselves every day: that
things are getting better all the time. If you measure a society by
how much shit it creates, then you’re right. We’re sitting on top of
a magnificent crap heap. HOWEVER, if you think that we need
some spring cleaning, then take the first step: Try not to piss all
over the floor, and please flush the toilet when you are finished.
Thanking you in advance,
Don Wong
Harvey never got a chance to read the final request. At the moment
that he reached the words “Holy shit,” he felt himself abruptly losing
his balance. Victoria, sitting on the floor with feet braced against the
inside of the stall, had yanked his ankles clean out from under him.
Falling back, his head struck hard against the tile countertop, the
neon glow of the lavatory fading fast.
Victoria struggled to her feet, caught her breath, and ran out of
H O L Y S H I T !
74
 |
 |
 |
 |