Jimmy was the kind of man that could tell a lot about a place by its bathrooms. If they had the good toilet paper then the janitor is probably a hard ass. Clean stalls, the manager is a hard ass. The measure of the hand towels was possibility the most important reflection of the company's opinion of themselves.

Rough brown paper? You're probably at a truck stop.

Soft white paper and you've stepped up to a bar and grill with a proud atmosphere. Clean floors, good ribs, TVs with all of the sports.

And of course, those fancy-dancy places with actual towels. If the toss bin is a decorative pot then you may be at a legitimate establishment, or a place that just had a pot sitting around. If it's a trash bin with a plastic bag then either someone didn't think to decorate, or they figured it was easier on the employees (which is fair).

Jimmy was not in one of those 'actual towel' establishments. He was in a normal gas station with average hand towels, cheap soap, clean stalls (despite some vulgar graffiti that no one bothered removing), a human corpse on one of the toilets, white toilet paper that wasn't too rough...

A corpse! A dead guy with a split jaw and a neck with enough flesh ripped free to make a chunky bow tie. More blood poured down the man's shirt to paint a regular tie.

Who wears two ties? It wasn't exactly a rational thought, but it was the first thing to come to mind for the bathroom savant. The second and third thoughts both happened to be, what the fuck!?

What the fuck; to the dead guy.

And, What the fuck; when the dead man rolled off of his porcelain throne and pushed himself off of the floor.

The undead lurched out of the stall making blood streams flow to the drain in the middle of the floor. Jimmy slipped backwards off of his feet. Fingers slamming hard into the bottom of an adjacent urinal. The zombie followed him down, and began an awkward feast upon nearly two-hundred pounds of man meat and the twelve ounces of steak dinner he had earlier.

It hovered near his neck with the top jaw attempting to naw, despite the lower jaw being non-existent. There was still a struggle to not get impaled by whatever was left of it's maw, but Jimmy shoved it aside and ran into the stall.

A zombie arm blocked the door from shutting all of the way. If the strength of one dead arm wasn't enough to pry its way in then the second one joining definitely was. Jimmy gave the door a last mighty tug to break the zombie's hold and it came slamming into the zombies already weakened skull.

Brains popped out of the back of the skull just a little bit, like the meat oozing out of the back of a chili dog.