A Paranoid Moment

Darjeeling walked into the men’s restroom at the municipal facility in Olathe. The newness of the building was impressive with all of the latest public building innovations. He walked up to the empty stall after checking the room out for other persons and, seeing none, unzipped. He hated stalls because what else is there to do but look either down or straight ahead. You don’t dare look sideways or try to start up a conversation. You could sing or whistle but why? So Darjeeling preferred to look straight ahead. Sometimes he chuckled to himself about the age old joke of the pissoire, “What are you looking at, the jokes in your hand.” He wasn’t really worried about that though, he just preferred to look straight ahead. He noticed the small round area on the newly painted wall. It was just a shade off color from the rest of the wall, like it had been put there recently. Like a hole in the wall that had been replastered. “About the size of a 44 Magnum slug,” he thought to himself. The urinal was one of those new ones with the automatic flush mechanism. This particular brand name caught his attention, Toto. He laughed. Toto, the little Kansas dog who has been referred to whenever anyone looks around and finds themselves in strange circumstances, was now relegated to the name brand of a urinal. “Final flush” it said beneath the Toto logo. Toto logo he thought. Sounds Spanish sort of like “todo loco.” Sort of like he himself. He was about to finish his business when his attention was drawn back to the round hole patch and all of a sudden he froze. The hole was the same size as a 44 magnum slug. Things began to click in his mind. Toto, Final Flush, 44 Magnum. As he slowly rezipped, he noticed the wire coming out of the wall. It connected into the back of the auto-flush sensor. He looked at the stall next to him. No wire. His mind flashed back to the days of the booby traps as he slowly reached for his Leatherman tool that was always on his belt. He deftly opened the tool to the wirecutter function as he finished the zip. Leaning to the side, out of the line of fire he maneuvered the cutting jaws toward the wire, sweat now beading up on his brow. He knew about these things. The wrong cut and you were dusted. He heard the door behind him opening as he clipped the wire in two. Nothing happened. He breathed again for the first time in what seemed like hours. The janitor saw the Leatherman in his hand and the cut wire. As he stepped back smiling, Darjeeling felt good about what he had done but two questions gnawed at his insides, “Who is trying to kill me and how did they know I would be here?” As he walked out he noticed that the auto-flush feature failed to work. “You need to fix that thing.” he called out as he left.