The Restroom

Deep in the heart of the Ozarks, a downpour engulfed the roadway on an afternoon in July 2007. Rain poured relentlessly outside, forcing drivers, and we saturated motorcyclists, from the road and drove all indoors to hunt for refuge. In the distance on the left stood an aging roadside gas station, a relic from the 1930s, now transformed into a dingy, cramped convenience store, which offered patrons the promise of relief in the form of shelter, a restroom, and a vast selection of beef jerky. As the storm raged on, several individuals, your humble narrator included, anxiously queued up outside the sole single-person restroom, situated at the rear of the cramped retail space, our patience wearing thin as the current occupant seemed to take an eternity.

Finally, the door groaned and yielded, revealing a young girl of around fourteen years old. She emerged from the cramped, and apparently unventilated, confines, her frilly white dress a stark contrast against the dingy atmosphere of the store. The dress, reminiscent of something worn on stage at a bluegrass festival by a performer, added a touch of surrealness to the scene. However, what accompanied her was a stench so vile and unfathomable that it instantly overtook the store, befouling the meager volume of air with a putrid cloud. The dingy atmosphere now converted to an unbreathable atmosphere, the onlookers recoiled in horror, their expressions contorted in disgust and disbelief. And, dear reader, lest you think this is hyperbole, it is with the utmost sincerity that I assure you that this was far beyond whatever you’re imagining. Even the most hardened and weathered men, who had clearly endured much in their lives, found themselves buckling at the knees, desperately grasping for support as it struck like a wave and left them stunned and unprepared for this unprovoked and dastardly attack while the noxious odor horrifyingly filled their lungs as they clutched at their chests, gasping, the sheer terror etched upon their faces. Who could be prepared to encounter the shock and awe of this abomination, which had risen to the magnitude of a war crime?

Seemingly oblivious to the scene unfolding around her, the young girl gently patted herself, delicately arranging her dress as if a light breeze had ruffled it. A content look upon her face, as if she had just engaged in a tender moment with a bunny rather than having unleashed a monstrous expulsion, disgorging the bowels of Satan upon an unprepared world. It was difficult to comprehend how such a petite and seemingly innocent creature could inflict such a foul and repugnant horror upon the planet.

Amidst the disquiet, contemplation arose in the minds of those present. Some wondered if her time had been spent engaged in a grueling and desperate struggle to dislodge the source of this stench from her lower colon, while others pondered whether she had been immobilized by terror, mortified, and plotting her escape from the horror she had brought forth without facing the inevitable humiliation, demands for explanation, restitution for damage to the store, and the pain and suffering of the other patrons. The possibility that this stench was the expected and usual state of affairs was too horrifying to contemplate. Most people would have kicked the door open and tearfully bolted for the exit, shamefully hiding their faces, saying, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Save yourselves!” Or, perhaps a desperate, “It was like that when I went in.” though no one would have believed it could be willingly or possibly endured. Perhaps she had determined that pretending nothing unusual was happening and maintaining a pleasant countenance was her only way to emerge with dignity intact, and she had steeled herself into the plan of looking as unfazed as humanly possible. On the other hand, it could be that her serene expression was the result of an ethical thought experiment, eventually leading to the philosophical conclusion that any society that would judge a young girl for the outcome of a basic and necessary biological function fully deserved to suffer.

As the fetid miasma lingered in the air, a mixture of horror and disbelief pervaded the convenience store. The queue was now in disarray, with patrons desperately avoiding eye contact, each silently hoping that someone else more desperate than themselves would be the first to venture into the lingering aftermath.

While it remains pure speculation, it is a plausible explanation for the events. One possibility is that the young girl’s grandparents had brought her down from the hills, specifically for her eagerly awaited annual visit to the convenience store restroom. Over the span of several months, her diet, mainly consisting of rotting possums and various roadkill, had undergone a grotesque fermentation process within her digestive tract. This disturbing transformation eventually reached its culmination, resulting in the release of an abhorrent odor during her long-awaited yearly visit.

Over the span of many years, the acrid stench would eventually dissipate, yet its memory could never fade. But the legend of the restroom girl would persist, whispered among locals, and passed down through generations in hushed tones. And though they may never fully comprehend the enigma that was the young girl and her annual visit, they would forever be bound by the peculiar tale of the Ozarks’, hopefully, most infamous restroom experience. The memory of the young girl and the unimaginable devastation of her eagerly awaited visit haunted their thoughts, forever reminding them of the strange and disconcerting mysteries that could be found within the walls of a roadside restroom. They would forever be marked by the day they encountered the girl and were forced to confront the repulsive consequences of her presence.