Hello, it’s me and I’m back. I thought today I would talk to you about a crime that happened on the day my wife and I moved into our new place, not only a crime but an act so heinous that it has taken me three months to come to grips with what happened. It’s still hard to talk about and I’m going to need therapy when I’m done. One of the movers took a big stinky, bowl staining SHIT in my toilet!
Yes! You read that right. All of the men out there know exactly what I am talking about. One of the Ten Rules of Man Law is that ‘thou shall not take a dump on another man’s throne before he has even used it himself.’ A violation punishable by death.
The perpetrator’s name is Trenten (with an e, not o) now and forever known as, “Shit Stain,” Malloy. It sounds like the name of a gassy Irish mobster, doesn’t it? But Shit Stain’s crime was worse than any a real mobster could commit. I’d have arranged for him to sleep with the fishes if I were not afraid, he’d shit on them too. Do you know who I really blame for this? My soon to be ex-wife, that’s who.
Some of you may recall from past posts that I have referred to my now soon to be ex-wife, but still current one as ‘Poops Ahoy.’ That’s right, the woman who never saw a ‘mode she couldn’t choke. The woman with whom no suction power can go the distance. The woman who has been known rip open packs of toilet paper to test feel BEFORE SHE HAS EVEN PAID FOR THEM. The woman whose motto, ‘If it feels good in the hand, it feels good in the hole,’ is the accessory to Shit Stain’s crime against toiletry. While I was outside with the other mover, the evil Shit Stain asked my soon to be ex-wife to use the bathroom and instead of letting him use hers, directed him to mine. An accident? A misunderstanding resulting from her failing to ask him which function he had to do? No! I hold that that she immediately saw a diabolical way to get her jollies while causing me permanent trauma. By sending him to my bathroom she guaranteed her pooper would stay hospital white while the evil Shit Stain Malloy left an even more evil shit stain in mine. Fiendishly clever.
Upon learning of this heinous act, I handled it the same way any normal man would, with shock, horror, and a sick twisted face all at once. Even his crew member looked disgusted because like me, he recognized that Shit Stain had violated the sanctity of a man’s bathroom without permission. Seriously, shouldn’t that be cause for landing on the Ten Most Wanted List? At the very least it should carry a minimum ten-year sentence in a federal prison. Needless to say, Shit Stain was mercilessly ribbed until the move was complete and if there is any justice, it continued all the way back to the office and beyond.
So, word of warning to all of you planning a move. If a mover asks to use your bathroom, ask which one they have to do. If the answer is shit, tell them to go in the neighbor’s flower bed or use the back of their truck. That’s what storage is for after all. In the meantime, anyone know the name of a good therapist? As for Poops Ahoy, I wonder if this will fall under irreconcilable differences in our divorce trial. I’m hoping for a male judge, he’ll instantly understand and side with me. Fingers crossed.
Until next time. Be good or be good at it. Unless it’s shitting in another man’s toilet, then wait until you get home.
A Fifth of Brian 