Stepek-induced non-euphoria

I apologize for the rest if this post, but I suddenly remembered, this afternoon, why I tend to avoid Stepek.

I met Ken, we ate at the diner, we left and for some reason we decided to go pay Stepek a visit … possibly because Ken was under the impression that Julie had gone AWOL again.  

Soon after we arrived, and no doubt thanks to the heavy lunch, I had to use the toilet … and there, on the wall of his bathroom, facing you as you sit there, was a huge photo of him ... lifesize, watching you as he holds his nose and waves his hand around his head to disperse some imaginary smell. That huge round face of his, staring you out as you sat there defenceless. It was less than a metre from where I sat.

I had forgotten about this habit of his … Often he will change it for special occasions, parties, dinners; sometimes he will be smiling innocently, sometimes angry, sometimes peering down his nose between your chattering knees (it’s usually freezing in there, but not today.) Sometimes he looks as if he is about to vomit. Once, brutally hung-over, I went in there to try and straighten myself out and there was a picture of him, bent over, pulling his ass cheeks apart.

Anyway ...