Gas was getting low, so was the sun. I'd drive on through the night if not for the tattler. Up ahead the sign read 'Truck stop 30 Miles". I'd go there for the night.

The place was well organized, and outside the shrubs and bushes were well trimmed and taken care of. Not a ciggarette butt was present in the lot. The building was a large cement one with high arches. It was a piece of expencive, high quality modern architecture. I went inside and asked where the restrooms were. A few hours after six hamburgers and I was about ready to explode. The man indicated a door down a hall. "Take a right, then it's the first on the left."

I walked down the hall, the walls of which were lined with missing persons posters from near ground level to about a foot above my head. Most looked like we might have shared a profession. The door he indicated to me was numbered rather than marked with the usual signs. It was heavy and metal. Rust had taken over a good portion of the bottom section. I pushed it inwards and took a walk towards the throne.

Public toilets always creeped me out. I pulled out my phone and gave David a call. I'd catch up on whatever he was doing without him knowing I was dropping a deuce. I moved to unzip and my shoe caught on a bolt that stuck from the floor. The phone slid from my hand, making it's way down as gravity took over. There was a plop as it hit the toilet water, then sunk. Looking up at the wall and turning sideways, I bend to retrieve it.

My fingers touch the cold, dirty water. I thrust for the bottom of the bowl, determined to find the phone without looking at what else I am touching. My hand in a truck stop toilet is the last thing I want burned into my pupils.

Then came the tug. It was slight at first. It was as if a toddler had gripped my finger. I pulled away quickly and looked down. The toilet was empty, completely barren of the excrement that occupied it seconds ago. My phone sat on the bottom, "Calling David" still completely visible on the screen. I reached again, this time looking exactly where I was going. My hand touched the phone, plastic to my fingers. The ordeal is over and I can move on.

The water turned brackish all at once. Eyes appeared at ten and two. It was looking at me. In it's mouth sat my phone, along with my arm. It wasn't biting down, only holding my hand. It had bright white eyes. They bore into mine, despite their lack of pupils.

I felt that it was necessary to not take notice of the creature. I pulled back steadily, withdrawing my phone from the water. The creature resisted strongly. It felt that I was tasked with removing a heavy weight.

It was then that I noticed that I was not only pulling my phone from the basin. Behind the eyes and mouth, mounted on a thick, veined body was a set of bones which made quiet clunks as I pulled the phone forth. One limb stretched towards my chest. I continued to pull. The creature now could be seen to be over four feet long, and still attached. As the arm touched my chest, I flinched. Bad move. The creature stiffened all at once and bit down on my arm hard. I felt the skin split, and later removed from the bones. The creature jerked down quickly, disappearing into the toilet. The pain was intense, but only at the base of the injury. Blood ran thick from my arm. I turned from the hole, yelling with vigor. The door swung open before I could get to it. I ran past the unsuspecting by standard, the flesh of my arm absent.

"I'm calling 911!" yelled the man behind me.

Blackness came shortly thereafter. The emergency personnel told me that I would never use my arm properly again. This was easily made clear by my lack of limb.

"What happened?"

I told them about the thing in the toilet. How it got my arm. How my phone was there.

They looked completely unconvinced, but after much yelling I convinced them to take a look. Hours passed, family came and went. A couple nurses came in to take pictures with me. My wound was cauterized, but a complete set of arm bones protruded from my elbow. I was quite a site to behold.

They gave me plenty of morphine; I couldn't feel it when they took out the hard parts, or when they sewed me up. I couldn't feel it when they told me how bad the infection was either. I wasn't going to make it. I was going to go that night, according to some. A few said otherwise, but I doubted them.

The police came then. They told me of what they found in the pipes.

"There was no shit in the pipes" said one. "Just expensive shit." said the other. The one on the left of my cot walked up towards my good arm and opened a duffel bag. Inside was a good stack of cellphones, watches and car keys.

I looked at the contents of the bag. It was then that I saw the teeth again. This time they were substancially smaller, but of the same shape and size. A set of broken dentures. Some teeth were filed down. A little higher than the teeth was a set of golf balls. The officer set these on my night stand. I objected openly, but the officers only looked at each other and smiled. Turning and leaving, the officers chuckled on their way out. It was me and bits on the stand.

The night nurse came in later and drugged me up some more. She told me that they would keep an eye on me during the night, and to press a button if I needed anything. She left and turned off the lights.

To my left, the golf balls were hovering off the stand little by little. I watched them raise first an inch, then more.

"What are you..?" I whispered.

They were right about me not making it through the night.