Well done. Well done indeed, my friend.
I have long considered myself a master at the art of stall-stalling. Never before has any mortal been able to outlast me in a battle of bathroom silence, but today my friend, you pushed me to my limit. I've survived all my past challenges, shutting down the factory in mid-production, and patiently waiting for the all-clear to sound. Many a foe has attempted to wait me out, but none have ever succeeded. Just last week, I was thinking of posting a sign on the door with a picture of my shoes, so that when a potential opponent enters the arena, they may recognize who they are up against and quickly concede defeat.
Ever since I was a young boy, I have always been at the top of the class, but perhaps my game is getting old. I always knew this day would come, but that does not make it any easier to swallow. Mystery Man, today you not only handed me my first ever loss, but you served it up with a side of brutal humility.
Oh yes, I admit that I was a little psyched out when I first entered and took my seat. After all, it is always the strange ones who chose the stall all the way over in the corner. And of course it is a slight disadvantage to set up shop when your opponent is already in full battle mode. But Mystery Man, today you employed a tactic I have never before seen, and it stunned me. You were sitting in there with the door closed but I could not see your feet!? I thought at first that perhaps you do not have legs, but there was nary a wheelchair to be seen. I quickly realized that you were holding your feet up out of sight. This astounded me, as it was a move I had never before even considered. Quite impressive, Mystery Man. Of course, I entertained the thought that perhaps that no one was in there, but your silence skills were impressive and I soon became aware that I was up against a great, great talent. I settled into my usual routine, with slow steady breathing, clenched bottom, and a steady gaze at the tiles below. You however, were clearly already deep into your game, as I could detect not even the slighted sniffle or throat clearing from your direction.
And it was an epic battle.
I was in the zone, and you were clearly right there with me, step for step. The first ten minutes went by at a clip, but I soon began to realize just how powerful you were. The seed of doubt was planted, and like a gorilla on a banana farm, it began to spread a path of destruction the likes of which I have never before experienced. At twenty minutes I had broken into a sweat. Still no sound from you, and as I bent over and craned my neck to see down to your stall, I was astounded to find that you were still holding your feet up above the divider! Oh what strength and focus you must posses! A slight grin crept across my face and it was then that I knew I had no chance to win this battle. I was the Spud Webb to your Jordan, and you were welcoming me to the big leagues.
My admission of defeat was not about to become public knowledge though. Oh no, I held on to what I had. This was no longer about winning and losing. It was about respect. If the Italian Stallion could go the distance with Apollo Creed, then surely I could hang tough with you, Mystery Man. Oh yes, this would be a story for the grandchildren one day - The time I held my own with the Bathroom Bandit. The legend would grow. I could see it.
But alas, it was not to be. Perhaps in my younger years I would not have befallen such a cruel fate, but as luck would have it, at the 34-minute mark, I discovered that my legs had gone numb. The battle had been so long and intense that I had lost my focus and failed to keep up a good weight-shifting routine. My own porcelain throne had finally exacted its long awaited revenge! Oh the irony! I briefly entertained the thought of playing through the pain, but reason got the better of me and I decided it was not worth the risk of further physical harm.
So I withdrew.
Yes, Mystery Man, I am sure you were surprised, but you heard me correctly. I withdrew. I did not give in and relieve myself, as most losers do. I simply got up, zipped, and walked out. I held my head high.
Perhaps some will consider our match a draw. To others it is postponed. But you and I both know that I am no match for you. You are the best, and I have no shame in what I did.
My hat is off to you, Mystery Man with no feet. I hope that we can some day meet again under different circumstances.