Saturday 9 January 2021

Dark Fiction: Good Luck!

Dark Fiction: Good Luck!

By Casey Douglass

Good Luck
Image from Oliver Hale @ Unsplash

Mr “Lucky”: 8:27pm:

The bass throbbed through the walls. He half wondered if it actually made the air in the toilet smell worse, somehow massaging the particles and releasing their full stinking potential. He wasn’t surprised by the smell, or that some other enterprising souls had got into the toilet before the main act started. The support band were decent, but worth missing the end for some bladder comfort.

His trainers squeaked on the sticky floor. The urinals were all occupied, the two cubicles were too. A guy was waiting outside the first stall, the other had no queue. He sidled over and waited near the latter.

A toilet flushed. Another followed. The door in-front of him swung open. He exchanged a brief nod with the man who emerged. As he entered the cubicle, the door of the other one swung open as well. He heard a voice chuckle and exclaim: ‘Good luck!’ to the waiting man.

He shut the door behind himself, and heard the companion door close on the other side. He then heard an ‘Ughhhh!’

He grinned at the stained wall as his mind conjured up several images of what the unfortunate occupant next door was confronted with. The ‘Uggghhh’ had sounded quite nuanced. It was half “I’ve caught my scrotum in my zip” and half “Help me I’m dying!”

By the time he had pissed, flushed and left the toilet, the other stall was still occupied. He heard no sound coming from inside. He chuckled as he exited the room, merging with the darkness of the dance floor. He was eager to tell his mate about the poor soul who had clearly had a messy surprise, and how, if things had gone the other way, it might well have been him!

Mr “Poor Sod”: 8:25pm:

The guy in the toilet stall ahead of him was taking an eternity. He looked down at the gap underneath the door, wondering if he could see in which direction the denizen’s feet were facing. If they were facing the toilet... Shit, now he had mental images of the guy inside wanking over the porcelain bowl. The door that led back to the club swung open and another guy walked in. His nose wrinkled as he entered flavour country. The watcher tried not to smirk, and then realised that he’d been waiting for so long that he couldn’t even smell the noxious aromas any more. Damn it!

The newcomer appraised the occupied urinals and then settled a few paces to his right, in front of the other cubicle. No chance of switching queues now! The other guy had been in his a good while too, but he just knew that it would be the one to open first. This evening just gets better and better.

The other cubicle door flew open. He sighed. He half hoped the other guy would beckon him to go in, seeing as he had been waiting already. The guy just waltzed in, the thought probably didn't even cross his mind. Selfish prick!

The door in-front of him opened moments later, a grinning man gliding out, his eyes a bit wild, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. Great, it wasn’t wanking but drugs... He hoped there wasn’t a fucking needle left in there!

‘Good luck!’ the departing stranger chuckled.

The guy watched him open the exit and flounce out into the booming music. Must be a full moon, he thought, as he bit back an acidic reply. He tentatively entered the cubicle, his eyes scanning the walls, floor and the toilet itself. Everything looked very clean, surprisingly so. In fact, it all looked pretty damn good! Maybe his night was going to improve from here on out. Stranger things have happened!

He closed the door, turned, unzipped his jeans and began to urinate.

His head throbbed.

He looked down to make sure he was hitting the target.

He yelled.

Mr “Pissed Off”: 7:59pm:

The journey to get to the club was a long, expensive one. Not only did he have to grease official palms in two liminal zones, but the etheric passport renewal and body rental had cost an absolutely colossal chunk of karma. As was always the case, the body barely responded to orders from a seventh dimensional brain. It was this that caused most of the trouble.

The bouncer at the door had thought that he was drunk already, so he’d had to shimmy a trans-dimensional shortcut open and flop into the bar area. As was just his luck, he solidified on a big skinhead’s foot. The hand that had latched onto his throat felt like it was trying to squeeze his innards out through his ears. A different bouncer saw the altercation and a brawl began, giving him the chance to slip away.

His eyes hadn't adjusted to the dark just yet. He accidentally brushed against a woman as he picked his way through the crowd. He earned himself a stinging slap on the cheek for that one.

A hot fiery feeling began to bloom in his chest, the urge to incinerate the whole fucking club with a bit of spiritual flame. But no... he was better than that. He had to be, especially if he wanted to be let back home again.

Someone jabbed him in the side, darting fingers reaching for his wallet. He sent a crackle of electricity into the thief. A splash of hot urine christened his shoes.

He began to pant. He just wanted to see the band. Was that too much to fucking ask?

The support band was up on the stage, wailing and hammering and doing a fine job of making everyone look forward to the main act.

Just wait, he told himself, the night will be worth it. Just, just, a little mischief first, something to ease the pressure.

He angled himself through the crowd and jostled his way to the restroom.The air was thick. That was the only way to describe it. He switched his nostrils to plane of existence six and breathed in a nice meadow dew fragrance. Who needs air freshener when you have etheric senses!

The restroom was empty, so he made his way to the first cubicle, locking the door behind him. He looked down at the white toilet and rubbed his chin. Maybe a little infinitude? Or a bog monster? Or an etheric leech? So many choices, so many options. He heard footsteps entering the room. He opted for the infinitude, it was quieter.

His fingers danced, his third eye opened and the slightest flash of purple light fuzzed the air above the toilet rim. He clicked his fingers and the haze blurred into a vertigo-inducing drop. Even though he was expecting it, he still had to throw out a hand to catch himself on the paper dispenser. Toilets, all the way down, is the best way to describe the view. Some relatively normal, others gross and overflowing, others not made for backsides that any human might imagine. Toilet after toilet falling away and sweeping down, making the viewer’s mind think that it was about to tumble out of the world. He felt his rental body’s gorge rising, but closed his eyes just in time.

He became more aware of the noises all around the cubicle now, activity in the one next door, urine hitting urinals on the far side of the room. He saw the cubicle shake as the the stall next door was opened. He turned and opened his own, his eyes falling on a twenty something guy who looked about ready to punch someone.

‘Good luck!’ he smiled, a small chuckle escaping at the same time. He left the restroom and headed back into the throng, hoping that the rest of the evening would flow that little bit more sweetly.



This story was inspired by something that genuinely happened to me at a music concert. I was Mr Lucky above. I walked into the toilets and heard "Good luck" said to the guy next to me. I then heard the "Uggh!" and had to bite my lip to stop myself laughing out loud. I wanted to create something a little bit strange and a little bit funny around what might have happened to the guy in the next stall. This story is the result. Thanks for reading :).