Printable Funny Bathroom Signs Novels & Stories

"Tell the HR to release a memo. All employees who do not wash their hands, coming from the bathroom will be given a written warning! It's for health and sanitary purposes!" James coughed, choking on his own saliva. He replied, "Yes, Mister Thompson. Sorry again."

I’m already on the floor, humiliated, with laughter echoing behind me. From this angle, I can clearly see the orange rectangular sign perched on the tiles but i can’t make out the words written on it. “Don Rafaele wasted a million bucks on an illiterate.” “It literally says ‘WET FLOOR’ on the sign!” More laughter erupts. I bite down hard on my lip as tears burn my eyes. “She doesn’t even know how to read. Dumb blonde.” Petra again… Always Petra. I don’t look at her. I don’t look at anyone. I just want to disappear.

With a long sigh , l got back on my feet and looked around at all the signs in search of a bathroom. Although there was a language barrier, the universal sign for the bathrooms didn't change. I didn't have to worry so much since the signs came from English. Everywhere l did walk , people cleared their way probably from my stench. I had all the urine and semen on me. I lowered my head and quickly walked in the bathroom ignoring everyone like they ignored me.

Bay's body is smooth and his lips looked so fucking sinful – it can cause a lot of damages to a girls body – like it did mine. He didn’t make it quite easy on me when he stuck out his tongue to gently lick his lower lip “ can we do this later? I can’t help you if you are seen in here...” he nodded me to the sign on the wall – The male bathroom. He spelled it out in a stretchy way, like I was dumb and didn’t understand simple letters – like he hasn’t fucked me in the same bathroom countless times. I rolled my eyes inwardly and wrapped my arms around my chest.

The place was really big. I studied the door to one of the toilets. It had a short horizontal bar in the middle that read 'closed'. I moved to the next one and this time, the bar was blue and it read 'open'. I shrugged and entered that one. I stood the door from this side and saw there were two bars, one was red while the other was blue. It was for me to slide the right one through the bar space. I replaced the blue one with the one that read 'closed'.

The weight already made her arms ache, but she clenched her teeth. The first women’s bathroom on the ground floor was large — twelve stalls, huge mirrors, stainless steel sinks. The smell of old urine and cheap perfume lingered in the air despite the air conditioning. “Here, princess,” Carla said, pointing to the first toilet. “This one is especially ‘happy’ today. Someone puked at lunch. Clean it with care.” Vivian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching. “And don’t forget to wipe behind the door. The day shift girls complain if it’s dirty.”

The signs were in French and there was only one bathroom, unisex in design. The tile floor was the first thing I noticed walking in, intricate in design, my slender heels clicking against the ceramic. There were several people inside, both men and women, and every one of them seemed to be studying my entrance. Urinals were next to two stalls and I waited until one was available, trying to drown out the mixed voices, the intense laughter. Once inside, I closed my eyes, counting to ten, then fifteen. And still, I could hear the music, the base thumping. I took several deep breaths, steadying my legs as I adjusted my panties, my hand resting on the knob for a solid minute.

From the corner of my eye, I see Irene turned around to speak to some woman at the next table. ***** The bathroom is a minor work of art: mirrored walls, thick towels rolled into a basket for individual use, a laundry basket under the counter. A wonderful perfume hangs in the air. Artwork hangs on the walls. At the basins, a choice of hand pumps offer designer hand-wash and skin-creme in a choice of fragrances. Plushly upholstered chairs are set at small tables set out with tissues, make-up mirrors and angled lighting. But right now, I just need a quiet moment. Marching to the end cubical, I slip inside and sit.

She touched her son's bare arm, lovingly, and Austin couldn't miss the way she seemed to linger on his tan bicep. Inside, the bathroom was cold and covered in blue and white checkered tile from walls to floor. There were lights, but the room was still dark despite them. It smelled heavily of chlorine, which was way better than what Austin had expected to encounter. There were two urinals, a stall, and a shower on the far side. The shower was pretty large, almost a room unto itself, with a bench against the one side (for the handicapped and elderly, Austin supposed). Only a thin, tan curtain separated the shower from the rest of the bathroom.

My arms ached, but I felt a small sense of pride that I had managed it. Still, there was plenty left to do. The gym needed cleaning, the lounge had to be tidied, and the restrooms were waiting. I saved the bathrooms for last, hoping fewer people would be around by then. By 9 p.m. the hallway outside the men’s restroom was almost empty. I waited until the last guy walked out, then quickly placed the yellow “Cleaning in Progress” sign on the door. I stepped inside and closed it behind me. The air felt warm and humid, like someone had just finished a long shower. Steam still lingered near the ceiling. Rows of shower stalls lined one wall, and the smell of soap and clean skin hung in the air.