The toilet water bubbled.

A few scraps of toilet paper, dropped into the basin by the stall’s previous occupant, became less and less visible as his blast of pee pushed it further down into the water. A mean piss. The strength of his stream was probably the reason this toilet bowl was complaining so much. Pissing and moaning, you could say of the basin’s protest, yelling at Wallace in plain English. Not that he hadn’t been yelled at recently by his own toilet at home. But this was the first time a commode had bitched at him in public.

It was awkward, having this happen in the men’s room of the Salmon Ladder, his favorite Seattle bar. Wallace knew the guy in the next stall couldn’t hear the toilet’s yammering. But unfortunately, he couldn’t stop himself from responding in... Read More