Just Off Center

As the title suggests, we have a bomber in our midst. His identity is unknown. He is only known to be male, college educated, and stuffed with high density fiber. He is the Stall Bomber, and his terror is known throughout my building.

It all started a couple of months ago. I was fresh on the scene at this newly assigned company for whom I would be implementing our very expensive services. I didn’t want to rock any boats. It was important to be liked. However, at about one in the afternoon, I would feel the undeniable rumblings that were the precursor to an after lunch mud butting. In the building where I work, there is only one bathroom to be shared among approximately 150 men. There are five stalls, including the handicapped ones. But we don’t have any wheelies working here, so fuck it.

When I walked in I tried to spy an open stall. All were taken but the one on the far end. I detest making boo boo in the presence of others. However, the two-minute warning had sounded about ninety seconds ago. I approached the open stall only to find that it been desecrated by what I can only assume to be a man with an eighteen-inch circumference asshole.

The entire bowl was covered in shit. And I don’t mean little streaks that come with a machaca burrito. Nor am I referring to the little bits of onionskin and other tidbits that resemble intestinal lining in the water. I mean the entire motherfucking toilet bowl was covered with thick, nasty, stinking layers of fecal matter. Try to stick with me here. I know it’s disgusting. But the sheer magnitude of the desecration is so astounding that it warrants forced desensitization, like my wife watching The First 48 (aka. Detectives Fumbling and Oh Look a Sucking Chest Wound).

I was faced with a situation that I didn’t create. I couldn’t hold back the hoards of used steak and green beans any longer, corporate policy prevented me from using the sink, and I knew that if I added to the porcelain spackle already in place, as soon as I left one of the engineers would see inside and I would forever be known as the contractor who removed the lid, did the splits on the partition walls, spread his cheeks, and blasted out a wave of crap that would have toppled your will to live. But since shitting my pants in indecision wasn’t an option I could accept, I chose to use the desecrated stall and just cover my head with my shirt the whole time I was running out.

I was lucky in that nobody saw me leave that stall. But the next day when nature called, I was met again by another fine example of why we don’t eat sawdust for breakfast. The Van Gogh of poopy was a regular visitor to this stall, this particular stall. I didn’t have to go that bad, so I pinched my colon as only men can and walked away wondering how the hell a man can see these results and never once question his doctor… or at least suggest a different diet to his wife.

It seems that I am not alone in wondering who this man is and what he could possibly be eating. You know, I don’t want to drone on about this, but I swear the whole bowl, the whole fucking bowl… every fucking time! I would think that you’d have to strategically position your asshole in several key spots over the toilet and let loose with a “Fire aft torpedoes!” to achieve these results. Okay… so this morning I come in and go to the john to take my morning dump and I see that the stall that normally is reserved for the Prince of Poo now has a sign on it.

Dear Stall Bomber

We would just like to let you know of a new

Bathroom technique we like to call

THE COURTESY FLUSH!!!

It’s cheap, easy, and a great way to

Help your coworkers not hork and shit

At the same time.

Thanks for your consideration.

Everyone.

But no sooner did my hope for the future rise it was dashed back to the tile floor when after lunch yet again I encountered the leftovers of Rhino Ass two stalls over from the one he used to use. Slippery bastard. I’m beginning to rethink my ideas on Big Brother. I would be willing to let someone in security see my winky while I’m going potty if it means identifying this cretin. And when we do find out who he is, I don’t know whether we should give him a swirly in his own excrement, or offer him a guest shot in some talent show.

# posted by Mike @ 7:24 AM