I was enjoying a Vanilla Ice Blended Ultimate at the local Coffee Bean when I felt a movement worth of Beethoven coming on. The place had been empty since I walked in and as I made my way to the restroom, I was looking forward to the reassurance of a cold toilet seat [really, there’s nothing grosser than a warm toilet seat… well aside from a wet one].
I opened the door to the unisex restroom, and was greeted by some tween toe-head standing in front of the sink staring at porno on his iPhone while rubbing one out!
“What the French, toast?” I exclaimed.
“Oh my goodness! Please, please, please,” he begged as he scrambled to pull up his pants, “you can’t tell anyone you saw me here.”
“To be honest, I don’t even know who you are.”
“I’m Justin Bieber.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Justin Bieber.”
I paused for a second, “Who?”
“Singer, songwriter, Justin Bieber. I was just on Saturday Night Live,” he said. I stared blankly at him. “People were trampled at my concert in Australia,” he added.
“Nope, sorry,” I said, still drawing a blank. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I mean really, how creepy would it be for a thir—er—twenty five year old woman to go on about catching some teen twirp rubbin’ one out… be he vampire or not.”
“Oh thank you! Thank you, I really appreciate it,” He gushed as he walked past me. “Oh and I’m sorry, I peed on the seat a little,” he added as he closed the door behind him. I turned and looked at the drenched toilet seat. Fucker even pissed all over the walls and the toilet paper [which all the more shocking because it was one of those toilet paper dispensers with the huge plastic cover and just the little hole underneath].
“Oh Fuck that!” I yelled, “Game on Bieber, whoever the fuck you are! Game on!”
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