DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

OK, here’s something I just didn’t need to see. You don’t want to know about it either, to have the image haunt you as you drift off to sleep, to picture it first thing the next morning when you wake from disturbing dreams.

But you can’t stop, can you? You’re compelled. You keep on reading.

See? Told you so. Anyway I’m taking a shower in the men’s locker room at the gym. An older man is showering across the room. I pay no attention because, in general, I try to pretend naked men don’t exist. Also, because the shower heads protrude from the walls rather than from columns in the center of the room (a design that promotes a bit too much “community” for my delicate Midwestern sensibilities) I spend most of my shower time facing the tile wall, mentally probing nuggets of entertainment and wisdom from the stained grout, for later reporting in this space.

But at one point I spin around to rinse out my hair, to see the other man — stiff movements, tired flesh, liver spots — in a half-squat, bent over with one elbow on his knee for support, peering intently between his legs in the direction of his ass. Which is where one of his fingers has been planted, digging for — oh, I can’t even go on. I mean, cleanliness might be next to Godliness, but this guy’s index finger was next to his colon.

I bring latex gloves and rain boots to the gym now.