A brief story of Izal toilet paper and the cubicle of pain

Holding on!

I WOULD dread it! The thought of heading into the grey chilly cubicle would make me tremble. I’d hold my breath and clench my buttocks hoping to hold out until home-time. It’s 2pm: only an hour and a half to go but I’m bursting! Can I make it? No … yes … maybe …

Keep clenching, take slow deep breaths, don’t think about it – instead think about making it home and finding relief in the smallest room in the house.

Gotta go!

It’s no good, I give into the sensation and my hand shoots up requesting permission to go to the cubicle of pain.

I enter the cubicle like a boy heading into the headmasters office for six-of-the-best. I enter and my enemy is there innocently hanging from the dispenser roll. I hesitantly lock the door behind me and drop my trousers before carefully placing my bum on the chilly black toilet seat.

Torture time!

Business completed and poo flushed away. I shiver as I know this is when the innocent looking enemy bursts into life and inflicts punishment that will torment me for hours. I reel-off a strip and my hand shakes like I’m receiving an electric shock. I wipe and cringe as the feeling of sandpaper runs on my bum. One strip is not enough and I reel off another strip; coarse grade sandpaper inflicting more pain on my innocent bum!

I exit the cubicle of pain walking like I’ve been shot in the bottom. I get back to my desk and sit down gingerly. I can hear my torturer on the roll giggling-away in the distance.

Where was the Andrex dog to save my bum?

Beyond Evil!

Dr Izal you are wicked! You showed no remorse and the pain from your torture session lasted for hours! You should be banned from all school toilets and your toilet surgery shut down! Dr Izal, I’m glad I’ll never ever set-foot in your cubicle of pain again!

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