After extensive research I have determined that the darkest and most depressing corner of my little town is, in fact, Fairway Market's public restroom. It smells like the bowel movement of a trash-fed bear. You dare not rest bare skin on any of its unwholesome surfaces, but indeed, yea, you must. Stepping inside is like passing through a portal into a Romanian orphanage. The crushing despair. The weeping! The howling! You must stop up your ears and callous your heart, or the place will claim you. It will swallow you up, and leave you as a stain of unknown origin upon the very toilet seat! Your imagination proffers answers to your troubling questions. The raging caucophony of sinister suggestions clamor like so many beady-eyed birds hungry for human flesh. Has reality bested imagination? Have the horrors of the most perverse mind found release within the confines of this fetid space? There is nothing to do but face the monster, indeed, face it and grin it down. I will not, cannot, abide such a place in my own town- the very place where I live! I am going to reclaim Fairway Market's public restroom. Will you join me?
I will periodically be bringing you updates on my clandestine efforts to improve the place.
For a guided tour of the bathroom click here.
There! Beyond the cheese, hang a right at the milk, through the double doors, through the stock room. Take a deep breath, hold it...
"Cheer this place up you must."
"Improve the odor you must."
"Leave me here you must. Yes! Go, and may the force be with you."