I was about 12 years old. We were heading home through Branson, MO after I had just spent a week at a summer camp. I, having eaten a massive week-end feast had to drop a deuce so we stopped at one of the outlet malls. As I'm rushing in to the bathroom, I notice this fat old guy kind of creepily looking at me and smiling but fuck it, people are weird and I gotta poop! So I rush in, quickly inspect for the cleanest stall, and begin the ritual.
About 30 seconds later, I hear the bathroom door open and some movement. I ignore it because people use the bathroom all the time. But something seems a bit off.
I finish pooping, and notice there's a figure outside my stall. I look at the crack between the door and see AN EYEBALL. The dude was staring at me... I made eye contact. And then I just froze out of fear and began tearing up a little.
He move away from the crack. shuffled slowly into the stall next to me. I begin wiping VERY quickly (no easy task... damn camp food). Then I see his hand, slowly, inching, under, the, stall, divider. I outright nearly begin to cry at this point.
His hand makes this creepy-as-fuck "come hither" motion with his index finger (I've got goosebumps as I type this, btw), when suddenly something just fucking SNAPS in me.
I stand up, fasten my pants, and proceed to STOMP THE EVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF THIS MOTHERFUCKERS FINGER.
And then I ran. Fast.
When I got to my parents I finally look back and see this creepy fuck hurriedly waddling out of the bathroom clutching his finger.