CHAPTER TWO: THE FATEFUL MEETING

Georgie's POV:

I know I used to check my crotch daily when I was a little kid, just to make sure my dick didn't disappear. But I don't do that anymore.

It's just that…old habits are hard to break.

So I guess I still do go to the bathroom every two hours. I drink a lot of water, that's all. It's healthy!

So here I was, in the carnival's men's bathroom, which was clearly not somewhere that you would want to spend most of your time in. For one, there always seems to be these great splashes all over the place, like someone had gotten the stall flooded by spastically getting angry at the toilet and then body slamming the flush lever. That's the more pleasant possibility too, cause who knows, that liquid stuff might be from a person who couldn't hold it in until he got to the urinal.

Then, aside from all that flooding, there's toilet paper all over the place, and it looks like Halloween again, when you tried to dress up as a mummy, but instead, you ended up chasing after that long toilet paper roll down the street. Of course, since the toilet paper is all over the floor, there's no toilet paper in the stalls and then after you take a really long shit, you look at the roll dispenser, "AGH CRAP. I HAVE TO USE SOMETHING…spare napkins in my pocket? None. This random passport I have here? No way. Cash…I can only find freaking hundred dollar bills!!! …How about…my hand..."

And after doing that, you can never look at yourself…or other people's hands in the same way again.

But anyways... So I was in the toilet stall, right, which thankfully had some toilet paper in the dispenser, just doing my thing. When you sit down in a stall, you always have to, have to read what's around you. Some stores get smart and put advertisements all over the stalls. But it's more interesting when you read the stuff that other people left there. Like some people just happen to pull a whole collection of colored Sharpie markers out of their ass and they manage to inscribe their entire life history there. "Jimmy was here." "Be considerate if you sprinkle, wipe the seat after you tinkle." "Nicky and John for life".

It's very educational reading. And it's all just part of a normal, waste excreting process.

But then, something changed.

Someone opened the door and walked in. He walked into the stall next to mine, drew down his pants, and started pissing like there was no tomorrow. Honestly, I find it really hard sometimes to do my own thing when there's someone in the stall next to mine. To me, I own the stall. And the stalls around me. And the entire bathroom. All to myself. I NEED my personal space.

And seriously, this guy was taking forever to pee.

I checked my watch again and stared in disbelief. The guy had been pissing for nearly ten minutes straight and my bladder was getting rather uncomfortable since I was unwillingly holding it in. Time to speak up.

I cleared my throat loudly. It usually serves as a universal sign that calls for recognition. No one ever acknowledges it though.

I cleared my throat again. "Um…excuse me?"

The guy shuffled around slightly, but still did not stop pissing. "Yeah?"

It was a rather high, feminine voice. But then again, I was born with such a low threshold for gender awareness so I was definitely not going to be the one to comment on that. I coughed nervously. "Are you okay there?"

"You have a problem with me pissing here?"

This conversation was getting more and more abnormal. "Uh…yeah…"

He continued pissing without a pause. "Well you know what, it's a free country. And I got a right to pee here, just like all you other guys do."

I opened my mouth to retaliate but it was at this moment that I noticed the guy's shoes. High heeled, open toed shoes with bright pink fingernails…was this guy transsexual or something?

Yet, just the moment that I was able to form an intelligible thought, the bathroom door slammed open as another person walked in.

"Darcy, Darcy, are you here?"

Oh man. Another transsexual?

It had taken forever to get up her courage to walk through that men's room. As Talia put her hand on the handle (ew, probably unsanitary too), she was experiencing a quarter life crisis.

"What if someone sees me! What if there's another guy inside?! What if he's using the urinal and the moment that I walk in, he turns around and I see his dick?? What if I'm scarred for life?! What if there's some hand transferring disease in the bathroom?!?! What if I die??!"

Talia does have such a penchant for dramatics.

"Maybe I should just leave Darcy there. What could even happen to her anyways? It's not like she even does anything besides eat all of those fatty granola bars and then eat some more and still manage to stay so thin. She'll probably come out soon…ish. Or what if she dies in there, touching some male disease??"

Talia probably would have debated the issue in her mind until night and not have gotten anywhere. That is, until unexpected luck came her way in the form of a group of large drunk football players. "Hey! Girl, stop standing in the middle of the road already! There's a group of people coming through."

The large group of footballers stampeded towards her, their shoes raising dust and dirt on the carnival ground, their bodies forming one great single bulk of a wall, their faces set in determination, charging right at her. Talia went the only way she could go.

And that was through the men's bathroom door.

Georgie's POV:

Aside from the fact that I was now in a bathroom with apparently two transsexuals, I was thankful that the guy next to me had finally stopped pissing and now I could rest with ease.

Meanwhile, Transsexual #2 was outside of the stall, talking to Transsexual #1. "Darcy, honestly, what took you so long?! You could've just waited patiently in line for the other bathroom!"

Transsexual #1 with the high heels and pink toenails: "I told you I had to go! Really badly! And I just couldn't wait anymore, Talia!"

Transsexual #2 with an exceptionally genuine sounding female voice and diction: "OMG we could've gone somewhere else! You know what kind of fears I have concerning bathrooms, Darcy!"

Transsexual #1: "Just a second Talia. I'll be done any time now."

Transsexual #2: "Ok I've had enough. I'm waiting outside. You'd better be finished soon." The squeaky door opened and swung on its hinges as Transsexual #2 (Talia?) walked out.

Meanwhile, Transsexual #1 (Darcy?) was still in the stall, doing who knows what, and still intruding on my personal space. I coughed loudly and purposefully.

A voice came from the other stall. "God bless you."

"That wasn't a sneeze." I said, miffed by the assumption he/she had made.

"Sorry." And he/she continued sitting there.

"Don't you have a place to be? I think your friend is waiting for you outside…"

"Oh that doesn't matter. Talia can wait. It'll do her some good. I just need to find something here now…in my pockets…" There were some shuffling noises as he/she pulled up his/her pants. From underneath the stall wall, I noted that his/her legs were decidedly non-masculine too. "Ah I found it…"

I was getting more and more annoyed. "What the hell are planning to do anyways? Inscribe a message into the wall??"

"Why, yes." And soon enough, there was the sound of marker writing on a hard plastic surface.

This situation was getting more and more ridiculous and I had had enough of it. I buckled my pants up and flushed the toilet, even though nothing was in it. I needed to find another bathroom.

Yet at the same time that I exited the toilet stall, the transsexual also finished writing his/her message. He/she flung open the stall door violently and pocketed the bright green marker.

I looked him/her over and raised my eyebrows. "They did a good job in, uh, your operation."

He/she looked puzzled. "What operation?"

I coughed nervously. "Uh… your operation… you know… that thing… where you do that thing…"

"What?"

"Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?!"

"Pretending you don't know!"

"Don't know what?"

"That thing!"

"What thing?!"

"…I AM REFERRING TO YOUR TRANSSEXUALITY."

And then there was silence. In the background, I could hear the dripping noise of the faucet as droplets of water slowly plummeted into the bottom of the sink.

He/she cleared her throat nervously. "Uh…I'm a girl."