"Uh, excuse me?"
"...Yes?"
"Can you pass me some toilet paper? I ran out here."
"...Yeah, hold on."
"..."
"..."
"Hello?"
"Uh, I don't have any either."
"Well, shit."
"..."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I've been sitting here for about twenty minutes thinking about that."
"Neat."
"..."
"Why didn't you just ask me when I came in...?"
"It didn't cross my mind..."
"...Right."
"Um, do you have any toilet paper?"
"Are you fucking- No. No, I don't."
"Well, then how are you going to wipe yourself?"
"Ha. You're funny."
"I wasn't trying to make a joke, but thank you, anyway."
"I swear to god..."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Oh."
"..."
"I can't feel my legs..."
"Do you have any seat covers? There was only one left when I came in and I used it. This fucking bathroom is so ghetto. I don't even know why I bothered."
"Oh! Good idea...I have like two remaining."
"Fucking hell, that won't do. I'm on my period and it's...well, you know."
"Yeah, same."
"You're on your period, too?"
"No, I had diarrhea. The food here was weird. And now it's all...you know...down there."
"That's disgusting."
"We can share the last two seat covers..."
"It won't help at all, but...okay, pass it down."
"..."
"Thank you."
"You have nice hands. Or hand."
"Shush for a minute, I need to...fuck."
"What?"
"TMI, but it's all messy down there. I need at least a roll of toilet paper. Fucking hell."
"We can wait until someone else comes and uses the big stall?"
"Who knows how long that'll take...why didn't you just warn me before I went into mine?"
"I fell asleep."
"How do you- okay, you know what? One of us is going to have to get the hell up and see if that stall has anything."
"Noes goes."
"Excuse me?"
"Not it."
"No! No, you were the one here first and it's your fault we're in this situation, therefore I think you should go."
"Then why didn't you check to see if there was toilet paper before you sat down?"
"What?! Okay, missy, when you really have to go, nothing in the world matters but sitting your ass down and letting it all out."
"It's Brittany."
"What?"
"My name is Brittany."
"Okay, Brittany, are you going or not?"
"Fine. Only if you tell me your name."
"...You're driving me insane, you know that right?"
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"It's Santana."
"Santana's a pretty name. I like it."
"Okay, whatever, go now."
"What if someone comes? I can't lift my pants up all the way or I'll get poop everywhere-"
"Gross."
"And if I walk out with my pants half down, people will see my cute butt, which is fine on any normal day, but, like I said, diarrhea-"
"Look, the stupid restaurant was empty anyway. It's in the middle of nowhere. And so far no one has walked in. It'll take you literally two seconds to just check the stall and you can come back next to me."
"I'm scared."
"You'll be fine..."
"What if there isn't any toilet paper...then what?"
"We'll figure it out when the time comes."
"Okay...well here I go."
"You can do it, Brittany."
"..."
"You haven't even gotten out of your stall yet, what is the hold up?"
"My legs! Oh my- oh my- they hurt- ow-ow- crap it's- I can't feel it-"
"They fell asleep, it'll pass. Just hang on."
"I don't think I can do this. They're like gone. I can't feel it. I think I'm paralyzed waist down."
"You're not paralyzed. Just- sit back down, I'll do it."
"Are you sure- owieeee."
"Yeah, just sit. I'll manage."
"Thank you, San."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Fuck. Nothing. Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"Like nothing? Not even seat coverings?"
"Nope. Just a bowl filled with crap and blood. Jesus."
"You should start screaming, maybe someone will come and see what the commotion is."
"Good idea...AAAH- wait. Let me get back to my stall..."
"Good idea."
"..."
"..."
"Okay. Scream with me."
"Let's scream a song!"
"Scream a song?"
"Yes! What song should we scream?"
"I...don't know. I don't listen to screamo shit."
"It doesn't have to be screamo shit, Santana. We just gotta be really loud so they can hear us."
"I think it's better if we just scream."
"Nooooo. I wanna sing!"
"Oh my god, fine...Wait."
"What?"
"Did you notice any girls working here? I think I only saw guys. I don't want no dude coming here-"
"Oh my god, Santana."
"What?!"
"Towels. Paper towels. By the sink!"
"Oh my god."
"I am so stupid."
"No...no, you're not, Britt. This situation is stupid, but we're just two unlucky bitches. I'll get them."
"No, it's fine. You checked the big stall, it's my turn, now."
"But your legs-"
"I can feel them now. I got it."
"Alright, Britt. Go save us."
"I like it when you call me Britt."
"...I didn't even notice I was doing it..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Britt?"
"Santana."
"What? Don't tell me there's no paper towels."
"There is no paper towels. This bathroom only has air dryers. The loud ones."
"Fuckkkkkk."
"Let's scream."
"Well, get back to your stall first."
"Right."
"Alright. On the count of three."
"One, two, three, go? Or just one, two, three?"
"What?"
"Like, people always say on the count of three, and I always get confused because they always include go and it's like so dumb because that's technically a four count; it just misleads people and it makes them feel like they don't know math when they really do."
"..."
"Are you going to count backwards? Cause that's even more confusing. That's when you need go because it's just awkward leaving it at one. But that's the point, right? It's a three count, so you have to stop at one. I'm so confused."
"Britt."
"Yes?"
"One. Two. Three!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH- WHEN DO WE STOP?"
"I DON'T- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- UNTIL THEY COME? AAAAAAAAAHHHHH."
*two minutes later*
"Hello? Is everything alright in there?"
"Let me do the talking, Britt. No you idiots! We need toilet paper now! And a fucking refund! Your food was shit and now we're shitting shit and there is no toilet paper to wipe the shit you made us fucking shit!"
"Uh...right. We'll bring them to you, ma'am. Sorry for the trouble."
"And hurry up!"
"Wow, that was great, San."
"San, huh?"
"Since you're calling me Britt, I thought it felt right to call you San. San and Britt."
"You're cute."
"...Thank you. But you don't even know how I look."
"Doesn't matter. You're still cute. Plus, I'm looking at your legs right now. Fucking damn, girl."
"Ooh, I checked out your legs long ago, they were really nice. I just didn't mention it before cause you may have found it creepy."
"...I might have, maybe. But you're easy to get used to."
"You too. Even though this situation was gross and a bit scary to me, I'm glad I got to experience it with you."
"..."
"Santana?"
"Sorry. I was...smiling."
"...Oh he's here."
"I'm going to slide the toilet paper under the stalls, okay, ladies?"
"Oh, fuck you. You think we want our toilet paper to be covered in STD's from the ground, you sick fuck? Give it to me with your hand and if you call us ladies like that again I might wipe my ass on your shirt, you got it?"
"O-okay."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Okay you can fucking leave now."
"..."
"..."
"Oh my god, relief."
"..."
"Britt?"
"It hurts now. I think I got a rash."
"Aww, I'm sorry. We'll seriously sue their asses for not taking care of their restrooms better. I think I even heard a mouse."
"Okay...well, I cleaned myself the best I can. I just can't wait to go home and shower."
"Same."
"..."
"Fuck."
"...What now?"
"Do you have a pad?"
"I only have tampons."
"Eh..."
"You don't use tampons?"
"No...my mother, ever since I was little, thought they like...broke your virginity. So I just got into the habit of never using any. I only use pads and I ran out."
"When I have no tampons I just get a big ball of toilet paper and place it in my underwear. It's good enough to last through the ride home until I get my hands on a new tampon."
"Good idea. You're a genius, seriously."
"Please...I'm sure you would have come up with the same thing."
"Nope.
"Well, I'm coming out now."
"...Wow, I'm actually nervous."
"Me too, haha."
"...You wanna get out at the same time?"
"Backward count of three including 'go'?"
"You betcha."
"Three...two...one...GO!"
And then they marry and have kids and live happily ever after.
Lesson of the story: Men have it so fucking easy.