Another Shame-Shame At Lunch

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Gent sighed softly in pleasure. He’d just polished off a most satisfying lunch with his dear wife and friends at the newest eatery in town. Bless the place. He’d give it an eight on ten.

He sighed softly again. But this time Angel Face besides him dug her elbow sternly into his ribs and suggested that perhaps he should slip away to the men’s room for a moment.

Now here was another pleasant indulgence on this pleasant Saturday afternoon. Gent decided that he wouldn’t whistle as he took himself to the men’s, though that’s what he’d have dearly liked to do. He wished people weren’t so stiff and instead enjoyed a beautiful day like this one, celebrated it with a soft whistle if not a boisterous yelp. Never mind. The world was never to one’s taste. He beamed at what he thought was a clever pun.

Oh! And there’s the corridor. He might as well hurry.

* * *

Meanwhile Angel Face decided to follow the advice she’d given her dear husband and made a beeline for the powder room with her friends. One of her flock could contain her water no longer, which should explain the beeline. But there was someone inside… some poor woman who apparently was having a ghastly day.

Did they just hear a muted bang? Poor, poor woman. There! That was surely a bang. But how much longer could they hop from foot to foot before the anguished occupant decided she’s done? Oh! And would the site be fitting for immediate occupation… Here was a fresh dilemma, which they didn’t have enough time to ponder on for just then the door opened and out swaggered...


* * *

Mighty pleased that he’d wrapped up the proceedings neatly, Gent stepped out to face the rest of the ‘lovely day’ only to see his lunch companions right outside the door, staring at him as if he had a baboon on his back.

“These girls must be going prudish. Ugh... it must be the radish…” he told himself mighty pleased with his quick rhyme and smiled broadly as if to ask “haven’t you seen a man come out of the loo before”? He was about to say, “Boo!” to break up the ludicrous post lunch tableau when the girls suddenly broke into hysterical laughter.

“It’s the radish, alright…” concluded Gent. But just then Angel Face caught her breath and pointed the other way to the…

Men’s room!

Oh! Bananas!” So he’d been in the powder room all along. He should have guessed with all those pink tiles and the darned potty with its business end lidded over. To think that he’d kicked the blasted lid open. Kicked twice rather…

Later, he’d leisurely admired himself in the mirror imagining a bevy of beauties around him. Oh! He’d even blushed at the thought and had fervently hopped no one would see him come out of the loo... glowing.

How could he have ever known that in a moment he’d be walking into shame? Darned graphics! Couldn’t they clearly write ‘Ladies’ or ‘Women’ or whatever it is they write on loo doors, instead of pasting vague graphics in pale colors?
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