The urinal coughs, splutters toilet-bowl blue when he punches it.
Then lean-forward and grabs it – calloused hand on porcelain white and burnished pipe.
“When do we rwahr mhrrmmm…”
Lapses into incomprehensibility.
The urinal is silent.
Switches to Spanish and tries again.
The urinal – still silent.
Suddenly he arches his neck and throws his head back screaming “Fire!” to the lights as he lets loose, roiling the water green with discharged energy.