What About Bob?

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With Sarah Goodwoman's kind permission, here is a continuation of her short story WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN, an excellent little tale about the everyday hassles trans people face; which can be found HERE: https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/69906/what-about-chil...

Okay, I guess Sarah's story can't be found there, she seems to have removed all her fiction from BCTS after becoming the target of some harassing reprobate political troll. But WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN should show up eventually at Fictionmania. My story begins just a few seconds after hers ends...

(What About the Children Part 2)

Laika Pupkino 2017

Esther Krumnagle was furious! The pervert---one of these so-called transgenders---hadn't fled the bathroom when she confronted him for being in the women's room but had sassed her, and then gone in and used one of the stalls like it was his God-given right!

She had a good mind to call the police, but then she remembered the humiliation of being warned by that female police officer about bothering the cops with "nuisance calls" the last time she did this, as if she had been the one in the wrong!

That policewoman had seemed rather mannish, and if she was siding with these degenerates over an upstanding citizen---a TAXPAYER who paid her wages---then she was probably one of those lesbians, and on board with that whole LBJ-whatever-it-is agenda. The world had truly gone insane, with nothing but filth on television, teenage girls all dressing like prostitutes, bakers being forced at gunpoint to bake wedding cakes for sodomites and people putting skirts on their five year old sons and convincing them they want to be girls so they can have their very own pet "transgender" to show off to all their liberal friends... Esther hardly recognized her own country any more!

The "transgender" was still in the stall. He had been so flippant that she realized it would do no good to reason with him when he emerged. Being mentally ill was one thing, you might even be tempted to sympathize with them if they acknowledged their condition for what it was; but these people simply had no shame or decency, as if they didn't even recognize morality when it was right in front of them. They called confronting them about their sickness hate.

She remembered the moving sermon she'd heard Pastor Don give last Sunday at her church, Foursquare Pentecostal, based on the passage from the Book of Isaiah: "Woe to those who call evil good and good evil..." How timely the handsome young pastor's message had been, and how true!

She was about to leave when her worst nightmare happened. A man---bearded and scruffy and more than a little dirty---walked into the women's room, sauntering as if there was nothing wrong with his being here, and headed for one of the stalls.

She knew what he was! A peeping Tom or even a rapist, who could use these crazy laws they had nowadays to walk right into the ladies room simply by claiming he "felt like a woman today"- the very thing Pastor Don had been warning about; And in this new backward world the good, normal people could do nothing about it!

Well think again, Buster! The good normal people had had enough! And they were starting to put a stop to the madness. Just the other week her President had taken the common-sense step of banning these "trans" freaks from the military. It heartened her to know that after eight years of our government bending over backward to cater to every sort of weirdo the tide was beginning to turn. And though she was frightened, she knew she had to act. Because when good people did nothing, evil triumphed.

She stepped between the deviant and the stall he was trying to enter. She put her purse on the ground. She crossed her arms. "And where do you think you're going?"

The man scratched his scraggly beard and spoke in an oddly soft and high pitched voice, acting as defiant as the 'tranny' had been. "I think I'm going to take a piss."

"You go do that in the men's bathroom!"

Bob Jameson had had a rough day at work. The testosterone shots that were allowing his pride and joy of a beard to flourish were also helping him gain muscle mass, but he still wasn't nearly as buff as his co-workers at the construction site, and he really had to bust ass just to keep up. They were a great bunch of guys, and had actually told him to slow down and not kill himself, but he was determined to pull his share of the load. It's what a man did. So he was exhausted and filthy and just wanted to get home and take a shower, but home was clear across town and after a few after-work beers at Rocco's Sports Tavern with Jim and Mike he knew he wouldn't get there without making a pit-stop.

And now this old biddy was giving him grief, her bat-shit-crazy eyes full of righteous fury. He'd had run-ins with her type before; and he was in no mood to deal with some random zealot getting in his face.

"You tell transwomen they can't use the women's room because it doesn't correspond with their birth gender. And now you're telling me I can't use it because it DOES?!!," he roared, "WHY DON'T YOU PEOPLE MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MINDS?!!!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" stammered Esther. "You're crazy! Get out of here or I'm calling the police!"

"So I can't even take a leak?" sighed Bob wearily, pointing toward the stall.

"Not in there!!!"

"Have it your way..."

Bob knew his next act wasn't exactly going to help the cause of transgender people, but a guy can only take so much, since the only reason he was in here was to accommodate fools like her. And it would be better than hauling off and smacking the old bitch, which he was using every last ounce of self-restraint he possessed to not do...

He took one step forward so that he was standing over the woman's handbag on the floor next to her, then dropped his grubby Levis to his ankles, hiked down his tidy whities and squatted---revealing the vagina that he hated and that seemed so out of place there, but which should certainly legitimize his being here with genitalia-obsessed bigots like this one (who was now babbling: "What... what... what are you doing?! What ARE you?!!?-") and relaxing his painfully full bladder... peed in her purse.

The Bathroom Trilogy continues in WHAT ABOUT THE ANDROGYNES by Crazypagangurl:

~hugs, Veronica

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