[ WP ] You are a professional pickpocket . You 've just picked someones pocket only to discover that the thing you have stolen is truly horrifying .

I pulled my hand out of his pocket. Completely unnoticed, of course. Positioning my hand into a loose fist, the booty was safe in the cavity between my palm and fingers; my thumb sealed the opening. The young man seemed to notice a weight previously pressing against his behind was missing. At the McDonald's we were in, there were roughly 30 people in the lobby. If I were to make one slip up, he could easily recognise my assymetrical hands. I correctly that immediately. The sweatiness was not so easy to correct. I prayed he would chalk that up to the 4 double cheeseburgers with extra mayo and onions I had desecrated at my table. 
 
 He finished at the counter and sat down close to the teller. Walking up to the counter to complain to the manager and get a free burger, he gave me a hairy eyeball. This was bad; normally I try to pick targets that seem too incontinent and self absorbed to notice anything missing. The mass in my hand seemed to drag itself into the ground. I held my other hand out and retrieved my burger; I had done this so many times before, it was robotic. 
 
 As I sat back at my table, I felt a tapping on my shoulder. There was no way this was not the man I robbed. I turned around to see a clothed face. `` Return to me what is mine.'' My hand guided itself into the man's pocket and deposited the object; it felt slimy. How had I not noticed this before? As my hand rested back on the table, the smell hit me. It was wretched and permeating. The man was still standing over me. 
 
 He patted his back pocket. A slurping sound cut through the pop music playing on the speakers. The dark, visible portion of skin under the mask seemed to move and shine. He sat down at his table following a laboured walk to the table. I was agitated and anxious. Was he going to call the police? He was n't going to attack me; his walk was weak and geriatric. 
 
 I needed to leave, but a pit stop seemed like a good idea. Sitting at the toilet, I knew I would need at least 15 minutes the pass this McDonald's. As if cued by that thought, the door opened politely. A figure appeared in the crack in the stall. The door opened as the man seemed to materialize out of a darkness in the mirrors light. I was terrified and curious. `` I need it'', he hissed, and just like that, he took his clothes off. 
 
 A robot powered by poop-filled hydraulic tubes stood before me. In the area where his back pocket was, there was an open tube. Before I could process all of this, he overpowered me, and bent be over the toilet. He pressed his open tube up to me, so we were ass to ass. That slurping sound returned, and I felt my insides being sucked out of me. 
 
 When I awoke, I felt weak. A husk of my former self. I was still in the stall, sitting on the toilet. Did I eat too many double cheeseburgers? Was I mad? I figured I should get out of there as soon as possible. I tried to finish my business and heard that slurping sound coming from my behind. Anxiety got the best of me, and I tried to evacuate the McDonald's as fast as my feet could carry me... Which was apparently a difficult ordeal. 
 
 As I opened the bathroom door, I saw something that made the slurping sound return: myself. I tried to scream, but all that came out was `` Return to me what is mine''. I ran back into the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. This could n't be happening. I went back out to see myself again to catch myself starting my car and leaving. Running to the door, I tried to catch my attention, but I could n't bring myself to leave the restaurant. No matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to pull the door. It was as if my brain shut off with the thought of leaving. I fell down and sat on a chair, when I felt a squish. I reached into my pocket and grabbed the object. 
 
 It was a nugget of poop.
