Dear Man in the Stall Next to Mine,

Look, we all know what happens in this room. People, specifically men, come in here to take a shit. I get it. In fact, I’m sitting next to you doing the same, so far be it from me to point fingers. I see your pants and shoes under the partition when you sit down. Nice. Nicer than mine, certainly. So far, I respect you, but now here comes the moment of truth. I cannot fault you for this, as none of us are masters of our own gastrointestinal affairs, but when you unload your bowels into the bowl it sounds like you’re dumping a sack of wrenches and meaty chili down a well.

Again, this I can forgive! Is it unpleasant to hear? Absolutely! But we all knew what we were getting into when we passed through those doors. Sir, it’s the moaning I can’t stand. Is this necessary? Is the force of your defecation SO great that you cannot keep silent? It’s outrageous and I won’t have it.

Expect a visit from the Toilet Police.

Sincerely,
A Horrified Citizen