of to the guy at the other urinal

To the guy at the other urinal (Restroom at work)

Ok. Let's be honest. I came into the restroom, you were already midstream, and it sounded like a fucking firehouse was being deployed into the porcelain receptacle. This greatly enhanced my perception of your manhood. Your urethra is wide like the Mississippi, and could probably accommodate Huckleberry Finn, Jim, and several steamboats. I get it. Congratulations.

I entered the restroom, unzipped, and began the evacuation of a meager portion of urine. It trickled, nay, dripped, into the urinal. You know it. I know it. I was finished long before your manly stream was done, and you cast a sympathetic look my way. Possibly, you were worried that my prostate was enlarged by cancer or some other disease, and that it couldn't adequately squeeze my bladder. You probably pictured my dong as being a feeble man-gina, that dribbled urine the way a new mother's over-engorged breast dribbles milk. A dipple.

Well listen to me you self-satisfied prick. I can piss with the best of them...

Read the rest of the story here.