I am of course too beta to demand she do it, dammit, I am not paid 7.25 to clean up chunky shit. Because Vintage Poodle Mom Mother’s Day T Shirt is stretching on far too long with no fatlogic, I will skip through the harrowing THIRTY GODDAMN MINUTES it took for me to unclog the toilet and clean off the seat.I am just starting to work on the walls, which is the hardest part because the shit has shudder begun to embed itself in the grout of the tile and is being rather belligerent about getting scrubbed out, when I hear someone enter the bathroom. Unlike the other entrants during my scrubbing, there is no muffled exclamation of disgust at the smell.There were so many things wrong with that last statement, I didn’t even know where to start. I am not exactly a tiny person, and those toilets actually have pretty large capacities for shit (I have, of course, tested them with my spectacularly large courseloads).I have officially lost control of the situation. I have no idea what this lady is saying–her country accent took over as she just kept yelling and snarling about REAL terlets…as bad as my memory is, I distinctly remember her saying “REAL” over and over. She definitely called me anorexic at least twice. And I am pretty sure that not only has the previous shit stained the grout and will be impossible to get out, but there is now a entirely new nightmare awaiting me in the depths of that bowl.
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I nope out of there for the second time, ignore the HamLambs clamoring for attention from somebody, anybody, and tell my manager.The Vintage Poodle Mom Mother’s Day T Shirt goes into the bathroom, telling me to stay outside. I hear more ‘REAL’s, the manager (who is a bit ghetto herself) getting her ire up, HamLambs screeching about Mama’s poop, and even more hamplanetry. Eventually the manager calls the police because DefileHam simply refuses to leave the bathroom.After a while, a couple of confused police officers arrive and escort a shit-covered DefileHam out of the store. She is screaming the whole time, threatening to sue for ‘size discrimination’ , and the HamLambs are screaming about Mama breaking another toilet.Hey, don’t blame us! We had to outdo GG Allin some way or the other, man. And people love the stuff. Love it. We’re not the only band that does it but at least we take care of the fans. I can assure you it’s 100% fresh hamplanet pasteurized, free-trade manure though. No lardbeasts or innocent third world peasants/retail drone fodder were harmed in the process of its harvesting.Could have made it cheaper and just trade some meth to some McBeetus drone after having to clean bathroom droppings but those Cattle Decapitation vegan assholes wouldn’t leave us alone about it. Also we’re not like Niklas Kvarforth, we’re not just going to randomly piss and bleed all over our audiences. We give people time to flee if they want to, most stay so they can get the full live experience, you know?
The dust settles. The smell of feces gently wafts over to the front counter. I hear the fatal words.
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