This post was read off the back wall of a Port-A-John in a city in a country in the world.
"Arrived in the middle of the night. Darkness surrounded me, threatening to force me to lose my footing on the narrow precipice that was what remained of the drain cover. If I fell I was sure to get wet. Thankfully, I got across safely. Then, for the coming days, I was to go through the ride of my life. Sounds scary? Well, it wasn't. Throughout the entire experience, I was battered physically during the day and mentally during the night. Who knew you could stand for 16 hours in the same spot and not get deep vein thrombosis. At least that's what it felt like. Now, I am being hunted. Hunted, by cubs. Do not laugh. These cubs have bite. There are four packs of them, with each pack containing 25 animals, I think. I have already been bitten once and I do not wish to be caught again. I look up and spot my comrade, the Toilet Seat, moving restlessly in his seat. I motion at him to stop fidgeting. He refuses, anxious for me to finish my necessity. Wait, what was that? Voices! I reach over and clamp a hand over my friend's mouth. The light beams from the cougars are getting close, the sounds of their panting clearly audible. I must go soon, in order to avoid being caught. Suddenly, the Toilet seat bursts out from his hide and flees. I fall down hard and hurt myself. The commotion has stirred the beasts. They are closing, I can feel it. I must sign off here and try to defend myself. If anyone reads this, no that the answer to life is not 42, no matter what Douglas Adams says. They are h-.....
At this point, the writing becomes smudged with a red ink, or could it be something more sinister? We will never know.
*This story was 60% true, 40% unavoidable dramatization
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