Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Why Don't You Take A Picture? It'll Last Longer!

I was staying late to help supervise a basketball game.  I had the walkie-talkie, so apparently I was in charge.  Carl, our night custodian, came to find me and had something serious he need to bring to my attention.  Carl is pretty much Otto the bus driver on The Simpson's.  He's got a long curly mullet, a great porno stache', wears an old school cassette Walkman while working in the evening, and over holiday breaks utilizes the building's PA system to crank early era Van Halen tapes throughout the school while he cleans.  I can't say for certain, but I don't think Carl owned anything (shirts or pants) that wasn't made of denim.

He tells me he needs to show me something and quietly ushers me away from the gymnasium down a hall near student classrooms.  At this time of night, this whole area of the building is empty.  We reach one of the student bathrooms and Carl reaches down to his massive key ring to unlock the door.  There must have been 400 keys on that ring.  How he even walked straight let along exactly which key to use on the first try is one of the great wonders of the world. 

Preparing to head inside the walls of a junior high bathroom, I was ready for anything.  Gang graffiti was my prediction, or maybe some profane message about a teacher.  Once the door was about an inch open though, I knew exactly what area we were working within.

The odor of human shit punched me the face like a boxer who'd dropped his gloves.  Carl entered the same as if were entering the daisy section of the flower shop.  The bathroom as this school had a think wooden door, no windows, and no vents.  Further, it was winter so the heat was cooking the smell inside this confined box.

Carl led me into the john and down to one of the stalls.  When we got to the booth of interest, he pushed open the stall door like he was holding open the door for a beautiful woman.  "Take a look at that man." There on the floor was the largest piece of human shit I had ever laid eyes on.  This thing was the size of a boot.  While I felt bad knowing Carl was going to have to clean this up, he was clearly also impressed by this anonymous individuals work. 

"What do you want me do here?" asked Carl.  He seemed to be treating this situation like something that he believed should eventually involve other tax paying branches professionals.  "Clean it up?" I stammered, phrasing it almost as a question.  My eyes were begin to really water and I couldn't help but wonder if I was beginning to look like the bad guy at the end of Raiders Of The Ark.  Then he hit me with it.  He gestured with his hand toward the turn and confidently suggested, "Well you want me to get a picture of it to show the principal tomorrow?"

Everything was pretty much above my pay grade with the teacher's salary I was making at the time, but I threw caution to the wind and made an administrative decision that my boss would not want a glossy of this cinder block sized after dinner creation while he drank his morning coffee.  "No that's okay Carl.  I'll just tell him about it.  Thank you."  I had to get out of this bathroom.  My cloths would already have to be burned.  I'd been in there less than 90 seconds.  "Okay," said Carl "big one isn't it?" he said with a nod in the direction of the mighty poo.  Most certainly.

No comments:

Post a Comment