We’ve all been there: We’re settling down, trying to relax, to concentrate to do our business. The light is soft, the faucet drips, and then WHAM WHAM WHAM! Someone shatters our equilibrium by hammering on the door. 

Given the state of everything, I figured it was time for a post based around the toilet. We may live in a grim world, but we can take solace that something still unites us across cultures, times, and continents: the fear of what might get us when we’re seated on the porcelain throne.

Europe: Italy, 100’s

In 175, Greek historian Aelian described the troubles of a group of fish merchants in modern-day Pozzuoli. Several mornings in a row, the merchants unlocked their storehouse and found their jars of pickled fish shattered, shards lying all over the floor. The contents of the jars had disappeared. There was no sign of a break-in–the doors were untampered with, the roof was undamaged, and the walls had not been dug through. 

Flabbergasted, the merchants enlisted a servant to hide in the house overnight and ambush the clever thief. The servant was brave, eager for the task. But when after a long, moonlit night something finally moved, he understood the situation, and lost his nerve. 

There, climbing out of the crapper, was an octopus–enormous, bloated, and mean. Covered in sewage, the cephalopod shattered the jars of fish like a prizefighter putting his opponent in a stranglehold. This monster was definitely more than one man could take on. The servant remained hidden the rest of the night, afraid to move, and then in the morning ran to report what had happened.

The merchants didn’t believe him. They decided to join him the next night anyway, bringing axes and razors, half as a joke. 

It turns out that they needed all of them. The struggle to take down the octopus required the full strength of every man, fighting to slit of tentacles before they could wrap themselves around them, struggling to force the beast back into the sewer. 

By dawn, it was finished. But none of the merchants would ever view the loo the same.

Asia: Japan, 1930’s

When in a public bathroom, do you like to go to the stall at the far end, in the hope of finding some solitude? I’d advise pooping with others instead. If you do, you won’t notice someone suddenly standing in front of you as you go to wipe. You won’t freeze, and then look up to find a man in a red cape staring down at you, face hidden behind a mask.

“Red paper or blue paper?” Aka Manto asks. 

There is no good option. As early as the 1930’s, people have been choosing wrong. 

Say “red,” and Aka Manto will a) slit your throat, b) slice you apart, or c) rip your skin off your spine and throw it around your neck in a jaunty scarf, all of which effectively turn you “red.” Say “blue,” and he’ll brutally strangle you to death, or suck out all of your blood. You can’t escape by being a smart aleck, either. Try to say a different color, like “purple,” and a hand will shoot out from the toilet to drag your butt to hell. 

The only correct answer is “no paper,” and the different kind of horror that entails. Alternately, you can try to escape with your pants around your ankles. But good luck getting past Aka Manto to get out. 

Africa: South Africa, ~1990’s 

The legend of Pinky Pinky has been circulating schoolyards for the past few decades or so. A lot of articles suggest that that legend may be the reason that some women don’t like to go to the bathroom alone. 

Tamer versions describe ghostly footsteps echoing down the hall just as you’ve sat down in the girl’s school bathroom. Pinky Pinky approaches your stall and sings a song to introduce herself, and then demands anything pink you have on you, including your underwear. Fail to appease her, and she’ll hurt you–maybe even kill you. 

Then there’s the nastier version, more frightening because it reflects a hideous truth (trigger warning: sexual violence). There, Pinky Pinky is described as a pink-skinned, mottled, lumpy bald man with pink eyes. He follows prepubescent girls into the bathroom to do exactly what you’d be afraid a creepy man would do. Sometimes Pinky Pinky will first force the girl to listen to his story (which the girl will never be able to remember later), and then demand payment for sharing it. As with the other version of the story, fail to pay him, and things will get really ugly. There are a lot of accounts of girls disappearing off the streets. 

I should mention that Aka Manto, too, disproportionately affects women. Fortunately, our next entrant is much more equal opportunity. 

North America: Texas, 2020

I think I’ve accidentally given myself a bit of ophidiophobia in researching this story. 2000 years after the octopus pulled itself out of the john in Italy, a man who went to relieve himself in Texas got a similarly nasty surprise. You might have seen the video–a snake undulating out of the hole where things are not supposed to come out of, tongue flickering. The man tried to scoop the damn thing up with a golf club; no word on his success. 

But what you might not have seen were all the other snake-in-your-can stories that followed up that one. A response to the OG tale detailed that a friend was sitting on the toilet and felt an oh-so-light brush against his testicles. The friend shrieked and stood up to find a copperhead snake (read: a venomous, and also one of the most likely to bite) curled inside the bowl. He grabbed a shotgun and blasted the living bejeezus out of both the toilet and the shower. The snake got away.

Others haven’t been so lucky. A Thai woman was toilet-snake-bitten on the thigh in 2020; when she tried to yank the snake off, it only sank its fangs deeper, driving blood down her leg. The situation ended messily, and only after the involvement of two hammers and a box cutter. 

These snakes are freaking everywhere.* And if you think you’re protected because you live in an urban area, you’re wrong: In 2010, a 3-foot snake showed up in a toilet bowl 19 stories up in New York City. Over the past 4 years, one man in North Carolina has had 6 snakes show up in his toilet. Want another fun video? Here’s him playing tug of war to get it out of the bowl. 

Australia: Sydney, Today

A lot of places are claimed to be haunted; most are probably not. But then there are sites like the bathroom of the Gravedigger’s Cottage at Manly’s Quarantine Station–a bathroom so scary that nobody even tries to take a dump in there. 

The cottage is flanked by cemeteries. These are home to the ship passengers and crew who never made it out after being quarantined for suspected disease–about 572 people over the years. The haunting is intense enough that ghost tour guides sometimes leave it out of their rotation. 

There have been multiple sightings of a man in a black cloak and wide-brimmed hat––an old gravedigger’s uniform––lurking within the cottage walls. Sudden feelings of being strangled, something pressing on your chest, or being shoved underwater are common. People have been known to have panic attacks, even to pass out. A TimeOut photographer attempting to photograph the interior of the house felt like someone was pushing their thumb under her chin, and had to repeatedly go outside. Mid-presentation, a veteran tour guide abruptly felt like the cottage floor was coming up to meet her. She could barely hear her clients; their voice were muffled, far away–again, as if she had been plunged underwater.

That water part is key. It’s said that an unknown woman was drowned in the house’s bathtub. Physics have reported a woman sitting there still, sobbing, arms wrapped around her knees. That might be why the worst part of the entire cottage is the bathroom. Multiple people have walked into, and, unprompted and unaware of its history, quickly had to leave again. As one man said, “This place is pure evil.”

Grimmer than 1-ply paper

There now–don’t you feel like we’re all just a little bit closer? That we have something more in common? Some fears really do cut through our crap. 

So…what’s the scariest thing that you can happening in your bathroom? Hopefully I’ve given your imagination a kick start. Good luck on your next trip there!

Happy spring, by the way! The season change totally ties in with this post, what with poop being fertilizer and everything. Here’s to growing something good over the next few months.

*If you’re curious how to improve the odds of this never ever happening to you, so was I. Fortunately, the Family Handyman has some tips. 

IMAGE CRED: Thanks to D. Denisenkov for the ancient (admittedly not Italian) commode; Jasmin Sessler for the emergency supply situation; Curology for the very 90’s potty; Eastman Childs for the angry-looking slitherer; and Klara Kulikova for the flexible bathtub lady. Finally, thanks to Earl Wilcox for the featured image.