I don't use the gents or the ladies room, not only because neither one suits me, but also because no public restroom can possibly suit me. My own plumbing requires a copy of Poor Richard's Almanac, five tennis rackets, and a selection of after-dinner mints. I won't bother explaining any further. You'd need an advanced understanding of quantum mechanics. The only problem is that you can't know TOO much about it, or else you go nuts. Why, I remember Marty. He told me he'd discovered the secret of the universe. The next day he was a raving loony. We opened up his skull and his brain was inside-out.
I always hated Marty. He used to feed my Emu peanut-butter sandwitches. Which made the poor bird explode. They're violently allergic to peanut butter sandwiches. So I always had to spend time and money putting the poor bird back together, because that was my favorite emu. But I couldn't always find all the pieces, so gradually the bird got smaller, until it was a kiwi.
I loved that kiwi. I used to feed him peanut-butter sandwiches. He loved them. But then he would hork them up on Marty's lawn. Marty would threaten to do various terrible Quantum things to Rosie, if I didn't stop feeding my bird peanut butter sandwiches.
But Rosie got him, in the end. She bit him in the butt. I could never figure that part out. She'd told me she wanted to eat his ears. Why go for the opposite end? But after Marty went nuts we gave him to her. We figured he shouldn't go to waste. She looked horrified. Said she'd been kidding. About the ears. I asked her why she drooled whenever she looked at at Marty. She gave me this weird look and pointed to Marty's face. He sure had a pretty face. Hot body. He looked good enough to eat. I got out my carving knives. Rosie said we'd either bury Marty properly or she'd drop-kick my kiwi into Lake Michigan. So we buried him.
She drop-kicked the Kiwi anyway. Right into the lake. I loved that kiwi. Best fruit I ever had. Never said a word, except when I got too close to Rosie. Made a heck of a racket. Besides the other one. I caught him running a protection racket a few times. I would walk into the neighborhood grocery and they would be shivering in fear. I just wanted to buy groceries. They gave me weird looks when all I would buy was kiwis. I couldn't figure out why. Kiwis are food, right? Food is Kiwi. I never learned what any of that other stuff in the store was. They tried to tell me it was things like "tomatoes" and "po-tay-toes" and whatever. People are weird. They eat all kinds of things and call it food.
Don't ask me why. I'll stick to kiwis.
Anyway, that's why I don't use the gents or ladies room.