Some vomit oozes out of your lips, so you quickly turn to the side and scream into the sink. It sounds like a bomb just went off. Green goop splatters all over the place and even forms several tentacle-like tendrils that curve around your head. It reminds you of how many comic books portray darkness trying to devour the light, especially in "The Incal."
After a solid twenty or thirty seconds, you've finally released all you had within you. Gasping for breath, you slowly lift your head to find what looks like a World War I trench after it had rained. Splatters of, to be safe for the kiddies, stuff, some solid and thick, others liquid and still running, cover any and every surface surrounding you. It's amazing you can even see through the mirror, actually.
As you go to get some paper towels, the man from earlier is pressed up against the far wall in the corner, petrified. He doesn't even seem to care that his business suit is all over a urinal.
The two of you just stand there for a while, maintaining eye contact but saying nothing. After all, there's nothing to be said.
>> Pretend it never happened?