"So what do you want me to do?"
"I don't know.... Wait, is there any toilet paper in your stall? You could wrap your hand in toilet paper and hand it to me that way."
"No as in there's no paper, or no you don't want to try that?"
"No as in there's no paper."
"I'm not too happy about it myself. I've been sitting here for three hours waiting to ask someone for paper, but I haven't been able to work up the nerve."
"Okay, well there's some left on my roll. How about I just send it over to you."
"The whole roll?"
"Okay, I'll roll it to you .... There ... did you get it?"
"It rolled out of my stall."
"It ricocheted off your water bottle at a roughly 60-degree angle and skittered over by the sink."
"You should've let me pick up the bottle first."
"That's what the paper was for."
"Well, this sucks."
"It does. I hope you didn't have any immediate plans."
"I'm here on a date."
"A good one?"
"Better than being trapped in a public restroom with another dude. No offense."
"Well, I guess there's only one thing to do then."
"Isn't it obvious? I'll have to kick your water bottle with my left foot, the one malaligned to kick the bottle into your stall but perfectly aligned to send it at a 50-degree angle over to the sink where it'll bounce off the wall and strike the roll of toilet paper, sending it back into my stall. Then, using the paper, I'll finish my business, exit the stall, wash my hands at the sink, and return your water bottle with my freshly cleaned and completely sanitary hands."
"It's the only option."
"Okay, well do a few practice strokes first."
"I'm debating whether to use the whole side of my foot or just the heel."
"Make sure your hamstrings are nice and limber."
"Alright, here goes ... OW!"
"I missed the angle by a couple inches. I heard the bottle hit the trash can."
"I think I sprained my ankle, too."
"It's all blue and starting to swell up."
"Should I call for help?"
"Don't bother. Just give me your shoe."
"There's a hand dryer near the sink. If I throw your shoe at just the right trajectory it'll hit the "on" button for the dryer, creating a warm gust of air that will blow the water bottle across the floor and into the roll of toilet paper, which will carom off the bottle and into your stall, where you can use it to wipe your nethers so that you can then go get medical assistance for my ankle."
"I can visualize the exact arc to the dryer. It'll be a piece of cake."
"Why can't you use your shoe?"
"My left shoe is too taut with swollen ligaments to remove. And I refuse to touch my urinary right shoe for obvious health reasons."
"Do you really think this'll work?"
"Totally. I've made way harder throws than this in horseshoes. This is just a chip shot."
"Alright, here's my shoe."
"Okay, throwing it now ... oops."
"It's no big deal ... I just need your pants."
Ferguson's long arm of the law laments the latest cutback.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.