Dago cracked opened the door to the bathroom. After some great deliberation, he decided to burst in. If there was someone in there waiting for him, he could jump back out before they realized if he was a friend or foe. The bathroom was empty. He bent down. Well, not quite empty. There was someone in the last stall with their pants around their ankles, taking care of business. He let out a sigh of relief at the lack of armored alien mercenaries. He caught himself before he could take a deep breath. Who knows how much the guy on the end had tainted the air with his butt musk.

Dago looked around, but he wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. There was nothing on the walls that looked out of place. Just your standard stuff; mirror, paper towels, trash can. The only thing that might've held a clue is the graffiti, but he would need an archaeology team to decipher the scribbles. He pulled out the map and stared down at the image. He must be missing something. It was just the symbol for the men’s bathroom. He folded the map back up and shoved it in his pocket. Dago peeked back out the door. Straight was still at the pinball machine, talking to one of the patrons. He couldn’t see Mulligan from where he was, but he figured if no one else was worried about, he wouldn’t either. He closed the door and returned to his search, making his way to the bathroom stalls. He opened the first door. A clogged toilet. The sheer sight of it made him jerk back in revulsion. He closed the door. If the clue was in that toilet, they were all going to die. He moved down and opened the next door. There was only one more stall after this, and it was currently occupied. He opened the door. His heart stopped beating and his blood froze in his veins. He had heard stories, and he had dreamed of such things, but he never actually believed they existed. He had found his five leaf clover.

A circular hole polished smooth with wear sat comfortably halfway down the partition leading into the next stall. Above it a proverb that read, The path to glory lies within. He wasn’t sure what to do. Well, he knew what he was supposed to do, but this was reality. Was the anonymous person in the other stall just sitting there waiting for someone to put their dick in the hole? Was it a man or a woman? Did he care? Should he ask before sticking his dick in the hole or would that ruin the moment? His palms were sweating. He was so excited. Okay, most of him was. Apparently no one had notified Argosy, who sat asleep in his hammock. Argosy was what he called his dick. Did it even matter? He could stick his flaccid penis through the hole and the person on the other side would take care of the problem. He whipped Argosy up and over the band of his Bermuda shorts, giving it a few quick stretches. He didn’t want to underwhelm the person on the other side. They might turn down the job or worse, scoff at it. He was a grower, not a shower, and right now he was more of a turtle than a tortoise. He moved to put his dick through the hole, but paused before penetrating it. He really wanted to confirm that the person on the other side was expecting a dick, but he also didn’t want to break the fantasy of it. If they said yes, he would just be imagining what the person behind the voice looked like. If he didn’t hear a voice, he could imagine whoever he wanted. It was like being a furry. Pure, anonymous sex. That’s what he kept telling himself, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t surprise dick someone like this. He broke down.

“Hey, uh, sorry to bother you and all, but what’s this hole for?” he asked.

The voice on the other side sounded a little startled, “It’s, uh, for you to relive your burdens.”

The voice definitely belonged to a man. Damn. But what had he really been expecting in a men’s bathroom? Oh, well. He thrust his dick in with a grimace. He really didn’t like the idea of a man sucking his dick. He’d just have to pretend it was a Swedish weight lifter named Helga with a husky voice and rough hands. Totally worth it. When was he ever going to get another chance like this? Never, that’s when.

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“What in god’s name is that?”

“It’s a dick?” Dago said.

“I can see it’s a dick. Get it the hell out of here.”

Dago snapped his dick back like he caught a fish. “Is this because I’m not circumcised?”

“Why in god’s name would you do that?”

It’s not like it’s a decision I made. It was my parents.”

“No, why would you just put your dick in the hole like that?”

“You said to,” Dago said, confused.

“I most certainly did not.”

“Well, the hole says the path to glory lies within, and you said it was to relieve my burden.”

“It’s a confession booth. What kind of pervert are you?”

“The very best kind,” Dago said with a smile, as had done a million times before.

“Son, I hope you know you’re going to hell.”

“Well, if all the priests and preachers go to heaven, may all the little boys go to hell where they will be safe.”

“You do realize you’re the one who stuck your privates in a hole.

“Ya, okay. That was a miscommunication.”

“Like I said, this is a confession booth. Do you have something you wan’t to talk about? You seem like you might have some sins to confess.”

“What you call sins, I call a Saturday night,” Dago mumbled.

“Then why are you here? You surely didn’t come to the men’s bathroom to get oral gratification?”

“No,” Dago said, “I didn’t.”

“Did you come here to poop? I get that a lot too.”

“No. Actually, I’m looking for a clue of some kind.”

“A clue?”

“Yea, me and my friends are on this treasure hunt sort of thing and our last clue led us here.”

“Oh, that’s you?” the bathroom priest asked.

“What? Do you know something about it?”

“Umm,” the priest uttered as a cacophony of turmoil erupted from the stall.

“Are you okay?” Dago asked.

“Yeah,” the voice answered over the sound of a piece of paper being unfolded.

“Are you straight?” the priest asked.

“No I’m not. Straight is in the other room.”

“I figured as much, so you must be the gay one?”

“No I’m not gay!”

“My apologies. It’s just that you put your dick through a hole in a men’s restroom.”

“Why would that make me gay?” Dago asked, standing up and addressing the partition.

“You’re right, it doesn’t. And the more I think about it the more it sounds like something someone who was retarded would do.”

“What?” Dago’s voice had risen to nearly livid levels.

“Sorry, special cowboy.”

“Special cowboy?” Dago replied, relaxing due to his sudden confusion.

“Again I apologize. I don’t know what the politically correct term is nowadays.”

“What? I’m not retarded.”

“If you’re not bedazzled fabulous, or licker of walls, or straight, who are you?”

“I’m… I’m gay,” Dago said, hanging his head. “I’m the gay one.” He sat down on the toilet in resignation.

“Is that the first time you’ve admitted that?”

“Can we just get on with this?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“You know god hates you, right?’

“Do you have the next clue for me or not?” Dago asked, exhausted.

“Hold out your hands,” the priest beckoned.

Dago cupped his hands in his lap and held them out.

“Next to the hole, asshole.” The priest demanded.

Dago moved his hands next to the hole.

“Are you sure you’re not the derpy one? Or are all humans this stupid?”

“Huh?” Dago replied as a red lens slid from the hole and landed in his hands. “What’s this?” he said, holding it up to his eye and peering through it. The lens turned the world a deep red.

“It’s your next clue.”

“Ya, but what am I supposed to do with it?”

“Take it and go, would be my guess.” The priest said, slumping back against the wall. The abrupt impact causing his disguise to falter, revealing an alien face underneath the pixilated mask. “Phucya, these humans are stupid.” He muttered under his breath.