Ahhh, CostCo. America's modern equal to the bazaar of olde. Screaming children, economy sized tubs of mayo, and lines stretching for miles upon miles. It's generally hell on anyone forced to put up with it, especially when they're making just scrap above minimum wage. For the consumer, though, it's heaven: one can procure anything from magnums of wine to swimming pools full of Nutella to the Qur'an on tape. One time, as my friend Tim and I made our way around the store, we kept passing this scowly girl who looked like she had just been laid off or given a horrible disease or something. While in one of the enormous lines, Tim looked in our heapingly full basket and said, "Oh, crap. I forgot toilet paper." I offered to go get it and set off in the general direction of the dead tree section on the other side of the store.

On the way, I passed scowly girl and said, "Pardon me, but can you tell me where the toilet paper is?" She sighed a little "this is beneath me" sigh, and pointed in the direction I was originally headed. "Thanks!" I shouted, and ran off to secure some major 2-ply action.

As I was carrying the sixty or so rolls of TP (hefted above my head) back to the line, I spotted scowly girl again and decided to give a last ditch effort to cheering her up. I ran up to her, and said, out of breath and full of desperation, "Hey... now can you tell me where the bathrooms are?"

Frightened, she pointed them out. I ran off in that direction laughing, when I heard her shout, "Hey!"

I stopped and turned around. She was smiling. "Thanks," she said. I nodded and continued about my merry way. The world was a better place, and it was all thanks to toilet humor.

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