My Irrational Fear

A morbid fear of toilet seats. That's it, that's my irrational fear. Weird, I know. But you asked. And I bet yours isn't much better.

But let me tell you, I'm not so sure it's an irrational fear after all.

I've never liked toilet seats, never. But I managed. Using the toilet at home was fine, it was clean, familiar. So there were no problems there. It was mainly those public toilets. The ones in pubs and clubs and restaurants. You always know that those bathrooms are going to be grim, fouled with anything that can be secreted from a human body. Not only that but the floors can be messy, strewn with bits of paper ripped off in haste, puddles of something you don't want to think about on the tiles. And then there's the issue of the lock, if there is one. They're often decepticve, the bolt doesn't reach right across to the lock meaning that while you relieve yourself you've got to use one hand to hold the door shut, not a mean feat. And if you're a woman you have the sanitary bin to contend with. Or the unsanitary bin, as I call it.

I know you've been nodding the whole way, agreeing with me. I know you know.

But, that isn't the real reason for my terrible fear of toilet seats. I know you're not going to believe me but please, bear with me.

It all started on one mad Saturday while I was on shopping in town. I was shopping for Christmas amongst the throngs of other people. It was awful. I hate shopping at the best of times let alone the week before Christmas which is always heaving. Anyway, I know it had to be done so I forced myself onto the bus that morning. I wish I never had.

It started with a niggling tingle in my bladder as I was paying for a couple of things from the pharmacy. I ignored it as I paid for my things, smiling at the cashier. But soon the niggle became an ache. A dull ache in the bottom of my stomach. Then it was painful. A deep throbbing that meant walking anywhere hurt. All I could think about was using the toilet. I knew I had to give in and find a bathroom.

I tried the nearest department store knowing that they would at least have regular cleaners, but the queue was so long that I knew if I waited I would have an accident. That would be even worse than having to use a public toilet. So I hurriedly left that queue knowing that my face was bright red from the sheer concentration it was taking me to control my bladder. I made it outside and found myself looking left to right, up and down the busy street.

Then I spotted it. One of those big toilets that are sometimes outside. A big black exterior with a rotating door. One that I'd have to pay a pound for the privelege to use. I knew it was now or never. Even as I waddled over to the door I was fishing in my handbag, searching for my purse. Hastily I pulled it from my bag and located a coin, stuffing it into the slot as soon as I reached the door. The door rotated slowly, opening inwards. Then I was in, the dim light illuminating my way. The door slowly shut behind me and I made sure it was locked before relaxing.

Well, I did what I have to do. You know. I'm sure I don't have to explain it to you. So anyway, there I was, sitting on the toilet seat after taking care to make sure it looked clean enough and still extending the toilet roll around the rim, when something happened.

When I say something, it was something painful. All of a sudden the toilet below me seemed to open up, a gaping wide chasm that I almost slipped into. With a scream of fright I grabbed onto the rail at the side of the toilet, yanking myself from the seat. Clutching hastily at my underwear I yanked it up, hoping to alleviate some of my vulnerability. I turned at the same time to stare at the toilet. It was a huge gaping hole, a black chasm. Sharp yellow teeth adorned the rim of the toilet seat, their points like razors. I screamed again.

Yanking up my trousers I picked up my bags and ran for the door. But I forgot, I had to flush. I knew that the door wouldn't open, wouldn't rotate unless I flushed the toilet. I turned to face the monster. The monster of the toilet. It was still there, teeth gleaming in the dim light, staring at me hungrily. I swallowed, hard. I inched forward, my hand stretched out as far as it would go. I stopped as far away from the toilet as I could, avoiding the gnashing teeth. I managed to get my fingers onto the small silver handle, slipping off, before I got a firmer grip. I pushed down hard using my finger tips. It took all of my strength but finally it worked. The toilet flushed. The water in the bowl went swirling around the white porcelain, taking the toilet paper I'd so carefully placed. The monster yawned with anxiety, with hunger as nothing but the usual waste was taken down.

As I ran for the door, I heard it gurgle in frustration. I began to wonder who would be it's victim. Who would suffer. I knew that I've never find out, after all, who would believe my story? I bet you're reading this and shaking your head. Well don't. I know the truth, I know what happened. I saw those teeth and the hunger within the beast.

Since that day I have never used a public toilet again, and I never will.