I will never wear my gold shoes to work ever again.

It was my last trip to the bathroom before I go home, and my bladder is threatening to embarrass me in front of the hunky security guard. So I skipped to the loo and got myself a first class seat at the live performance of The Woman Who Peed So Long I Sang the National Anthem In My Head and She Still Wasn’t Finished.

I stood there, with my spanking new shoes, gold as Buddha’s belly (or maybe not) – and I seriously can’t believe she’s still peeing. I bent down to see if it’s all true, if it’s not some prankster pouring juice out of a bottle. But the strappy sandals with the fake jewels confirmed that it was a woman in there, and not a fucking geiser.

So I sat there and listened until she was done. I was at the second stanza of e.e. cummings’ Somewhere I Have Never Travelled when the credits rolled, er, when she pulled her pants up. I heard her zip up, but she stood there for a few more minutes. What was she waiting for, I wondered, as I hurriedly pulled my pants down. My bladder has had it, either I pee now or I’ll explode. And then it occurred to me, shit, she was embarrassed, she’s probably waiting for me to finish so I can go out first and nobody’ll have to see her. I laughed out loud at this, and at this moment, this fucking moment, is when my body decided to rip out a definitive, generous fart like I’ve never heard in my entire life.

It was fucking criminal! It was the kind of fart that would immediately get you disowned and get served with divorce papers at the same time. It’s a legitimate grounds for a life time in prison with no chance for parole and a bath. It was that fucking loud, I could’ve sworn it was not me.

So I stood there, motionless, but my bladder gave way, so I stood there motionless but peeing.

I peered down and saw The Woman still standing there. What the fuck was she waiting for? I saw movement and shadow and realized that fuck, she’s bending down! Alert! Alert! Houston, we have a problem! She’s bending down!

I hurriedly pulled my pants up, wriggling, and I know that she has seen my shoes, my fucking gold shoes, and now she’ll be looking all over the office for The Woman Who Farted So Loud She Broke the Ice in Antarctica! Fuck!

So I did what she did. I stood there and waited and waited and waited. I had already signed off for the night, there’s no work waiting for me, so I can afford to stay in that cubicle as long as I want. She stood there, too, taunting me, the bitch. Maybe she’s thinking, we’re even now. You heard me pee, I heard you fart, now we’re even. But no, no I will not give you the satisfaction of showing you my face.

Eventually she left. And I stayed a few more good minutes before I deemed the coast clear. Once I got out there was no sign of any strappy sandal anywhere, so I hurriedly went to the elevator, anxious to get home. Whew, fucking close call.

I therefore conclude: I will never EVER wear my gold shoes to work EVER again. Confucius says, Woman who makes fun of others peeing will get caught farting with impunity while someone’s peeking.

Amen.