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Coming This Father’s Day: The Splattering

, , , , , | Right | CREDIT: FrenchKnights | September 29, 2020


It’s late evening on father’s day, and the restaurant is now closed. The doors are still standing open for when the final couple departs. Two younger women enter the foyer.

Woman: “We need the bathroom.”

The lady looked rather desperate and had been rejected by the only other venue with a bathroom, there are no public ones nearby.

Me: “Sure.”

It’s not a problem, it’s only a bit of water and toilet paper. Do a good deed right? Well, no good deed goes unpunished.

I might have some sympathy for this woman and whatever hell-storm she had weathered during the nigh on twenty minutes she spent in that bathroom, but it vanished the instant the foul, fetid stench of her creation seeped past three heavy doors into the main room.

This should have been a warning sign as our toilets are fully enclosed and smell rarely travels.

Woman: “Sorry.”

She says this as she hurries out of the restaurant.

Me: “No worries, have a good night.”

We’re still waiting on our last table, it was no inconvenience – how sorely wrong we were.

Words escaped our poor head waitress upon discovering the crime scene, for this was akin to biological warfare.

Our poor, seventies-era toilet cubicle was now painted with a layer of liquid s***, smattered through with vomit. Streaks of ordure, indicative of a poor attempt to clean the mess painted the tiles. The toilet seat was a Jackson Pollock executed in shades of scat. Hurricane Excreta hit our bathroom.

Needless to say scotch was on one hand and bleach in the other to give our poor head waitress, the only one with a strong enough stomach, the courage to tackle this atrocity of fecal matter. Our recent safety measures proved to be a minute blessing as we had enough masks, gloves and cleaning products to nearly wipe the existence of this offender off the planet.

But no hand sanitizer will ever clean our minds.

Our policy on allowing passers-by to use our bathrooms is under heavy consideration.

And to that woman, wherever you are. See a doctor.