"Julia?" asked a voice.
"Rhonda?" Julia whispered conspicuously. The restroom door quickly
closed and Rhonda scuttled into the stall next to Julia.
"Quick! Give me a drag!"
Julia, heretofore holding her breath, exhaled in relief and passed
another cigarette and the lighter into Rhonda's hand hovering under the
partition.
"I thought you were Butthead looking into the restroom again," Julia
said.
Julia heard Rhonda inhale and exhale in rhythmic, sage-like fashion.
"No," Rhonda finally answered, "somebody said he called in sick."
Rhonda's hand appeared under the stall again holding the lighter.
Julia took it from her as they both heard a man's voice from outside
the door.
"Rhonda? Julia?"
"That ain't Butthead!" whispered Rhonda. Both toilets flushed, as if
their actions in unison would provide an air-tight alibi which,
notwithstanding the stern tone in the voice outside, caused them both
to giggle. They emerged sheepishly from the restroom as Supervising
Manager Denny frowned and shook his head disapprovingly.
"Rhonda, where's Kurt?"
"Sick, I think.
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