Dirty Bomber

Picture it…

You're an academic advisor sitting with a student, discussing his major interests, having a candid conversation, and suddenly…

A dirty bomb goes off. From all the way down the hall. In the bathroom. Behind a closed door. And you can hear it loud and clear from 30 feet away. It sounds like pthpthfppthfh-pthfpthpfhttthhhfpffth-pfphfphfpfhffffhthtph. That's right. Explosive, uncontrollable, jackhammer diarrhea.

You continue your conversation with the student, hoping he didn't notice the sound or perhaps, if lucky, misinterpreted it for a nominal intermittent office noise. You try your hardest not to crack a smile. Fortunately, the conversation is lively, so you can slip in a misdirected grin and get away with it.

Until the unseen wall of stench attacks and slowly strangles you. Is it possible this student has a poor sense of smell? A stuffy nose? At this point, ignoring the stank elephant in the room is the only option. It's too late to address the issue. But the gas bomb continues its effects with dire consequences. Mouth breathing is your life preserver.

That happened to me on Tuesday. As if our office, the Condemned House of Shat, needs any other reasons to be loathed. Some random guy dropped by, sh*t out his a$$hole, and quietly left. The dirty bomber has escaped and is loose. There's no telling where he'll drop in (literally) next. My sources tell me it was the father of a student. He was either totally embarrassed or completely without shame.

Everyone on the second floor heard it. Every single one of us. And apparently the stench crawled down the stairs and into the garage (yes, some of us work in the garage). The worst part of it is that Mulva's office is right next door. She was at ground zero. She literally repressed the event. Once we talked her to a safe emotional place, she was like, "If that was me, I would have jumped out the window rather than step foot out that door." Tell me about it!

Blurt McLoud and Mama Bean were in the kitchen, so I waved them over in a way that connoted I had a story to share. Blurt's all, "Ahh, you got a juicy tale for us?"
Mwuahahahahhaa! "How true your words are!" I quipped back.

Advaganoush was lucky - she was home sick.

When I told Feyonce about it, she pontificated that mass quantities of Taco Bell were involved. I added White Castle slyders into the suspect line-up, too.

Clockwork was trumped once and for all in the epic game of Battleshits. Dirty Bomber sank her entire fleet.

None of us want to set foot in that bathroom again. It's like an altar has been desecrated. And that's saying quite a bit, considering where we work.

P.S. This whole scenario reminded me of a funny SNL skit involving Robert DiNero.