The Haunted Traveler Vol 1 Issue 2

98
slapped proudly, the smile on her face like an eyelash
on a balloon, ‘and I even went on the London
Eye!’ Bet it fucking squinted, thought Boyle, pushing
through the double doors and the clean air of the corridor,
away from the vinegary sweat and toxic farts of
the human puddings behind.
The itch was nigh on unbearable now, his
sphincter felt like it was glowing; the sun really does
shine out of my arse. He made it to the door of the
Gents, pondering as usual the ironic little stick man
above its handle, when Jameson came out.
‘Ah, Boyle, just the man,’ he smiled. ‘I see on
the roster you’re on toilet duties today. Cubicles Four
to Eight are completely blocked again. The one in
Five is a doozy. You’ll need the Stick.’ A sarcastic pat
on the shoulder then Jameson was gone, leaving Boyle
shuddering at what awaited him beyond the door.
Fuck it, he decided, no point in even trying to
unblock them until the Fatties had left. Let them crap
on top of it. There was little point in doing the job
twice. He gave his ass a surreptitious scratch, jamming
a bony digit as far as he could through the crease of
his heavy trousers.
‘I didn’t know you were getting married.’ The
voice was as svelte and sexy as its owner; Sandra the
secretary.
He turned too quickly, hoping he wasn’t blushing.
‘What? I’m not…What do you mean?’
She smiled a crotch tightening smile. ‘I saw
you picking your ring.’
Boyle felt his face burn. ‘It’s all those blimps
in there…They make my skin crawl.’