“helpless citi—” he mutters with a soft huff, trailing off because he was indeed helpless in more ways than one and he could imagine the series of laughter if anyone found out that he got stuck inside a bathroom stall. his current situation was beyond embarrassing, unpleasant memories pricking at the back of his mind from years back when he had been in a similar predicament. the only difference was that he had walked into the bathroom stall and parker decided he wanted to play an action hero instead of finding an actual, helpful solution. “maybe, don’t do that for my sake.”
of course, his response is a split second too late and the door ends up in worse condition. he could tell that bolts were rusty, but he could picture his manager’s face when he told him about having to notify the maintenance department of the broken door even though it hadn’t been him for once. he could technically walk away with parker and pretend like it hadn’t been him, but the disruptive scent coming from next door informed them that parker and him weren’t alone.
“hey, why didn’t you say anything?” he lightly smacks the divider, turning his attention back to parker. another fart interrupts their conversation. he wants to laugh at himself, the situation, and the unlucky third party whose predicament was more even more embarrassing than his own. if he was in his position, he wouldn’t be able to leave the stall until everyone else had left the bathroom. “sure, let me climb out and break something else.”
“the door opens towards me. so, i’ll stand on the toilet and you can, uh, kick it a few times?” he steps further back into the stall, standing on the toilet like he said he would. “it’s rusty. it shouldn’t require too much force, but think of my face when you do. not for inspiration when you kick it…”
he was almost prepared to pretend as though nothing had happened, as though the parted bolts had already been faulty to begin with. he was prepared to abandon the notion of being a better person, someone who was more honest and attempting to paint himself an image as someone who had made strides to improve. but it turns out, he was just as bad as how he had first started, perhaps a little better, a little more hopeful than years past. even then, he would have been more than happy to pay for the damages, mere chump change.
he lets a snort leave as the other confronts the unknown person in the stall beside, not being able to hold back the laugh that escapes from his lips at the interrupted fart that splits their conversation for a moment. cracked by a silence that was ripped by his own laughter, “your sarcasm is undetectable.” settling back into something that resembled calmness and not maniacal laughter. “okay helpless citizen, stand back.” he pulls back, aims his foot for the lock or close enough that it’d open up the door. he remembers watching some tutorials on youtube about this for research purposes and it finally came of use.
he gives it a good kick, hearing the bolts jiggle a bit more accompanied by a gasp from the person beside the stall. he crinkles his nose, brows furrowing for a moment, feeling as though the door had the upper hand. feeling more determined to destroy the foe before him, rolling his shoulders back, he kicks it a few more times, picturing his parent’s faces pasted all over the door as if stomping them their death.
finally, the door cracks open. “oh shit.” he huffs, “this is one solid door.”
