Stye in the Sky

Just now in the bathroom, after washing my hands and while reaching for a paper towel, a short, older woman I hadn’t seen before got right up in my grill out of no where.

She just kind of stood there, far beyond the boundary of spacial awkwardness even by more lax ladies’ room standards, until the "ummm, hi, can I help you?" stare I was giving her began this exhchange:

"See my eye, look! Look!!"

Perplexed and cornered, I said nothing but looked at her eye obediantly to see something red and bumpy and wicked gross.

"It’s a stye!"

"Um, I see …", moving away politely but uncomfortably.

She cut off my retreat at the tampon dispenser and inched still closer, really not wanting me to miss a good view of her oozing red pustule.

"They’re going to have to lance it!" [cue wry cackle]

"Ehhhh, that’s not good …" , hoping that, unlike bees and dogs, she could not smell fear.

"Don’t worry its not contagious" [more cackling]

"That’s, um, a relief …", and still she's about five inches from my face.

"Did you get a good look?"

"Ohhh, I think so …"

Then as suddenly as she appeared, she headed for the door but paused before existing to add a final flourish, "Yep, they’re going to lance that sucker right off!"

I must’ve stood there blinking with my mouth open for almost a full minute, until I convinced myself that, yes, that really did just happen.

Last week it was the Itchy Rash Account Rep. This week its Crazy Bathroom Lady's gooey stye. Who will appear on next week's installment of "Strangers Who Share Too Much"? Mail Room Guy and his unsolved case of VD, perhaps? Tune in and find out.