Many years ago I attended what you might call “university” in England. In the United States, it’s referred to as “college”, aka a potential waste of someone’s money and/or a good way to take years off the lifespan of your liver. I was a Computer Science major at the time. That certainly sounds like an ambitious major that is sure to make somebody a small fortune and cause ladies to come flocking.
During my tenure at this “college” I lived in a “dormitory”. It really was a dormitory on the campus, I just enjoy putting things between quotation marks. While living in this “dormitory” I used to do school work, but most of the time I used to do very little school work while putting a lot of work into being inebriated. My dorm was pretty slow in the action department, so I would head off to other areas of the campus where my friends lived, in order to jam out with my clam out.
Late one night after getting back from hanging out and partying at one of these other dorms, I decided that I would go use the restroom facilities, as one tends to do from time to time. I go into the stall in this “restroom”, and as is to be expected, there is a large doodoo log hanging out and relaxing to the max right in the toilet. Evidently they don’t teach you about flushing the toilet in college. Maybe that’s a skill you learn in graduate school.
After being appalled and saddened for the future of America and my peers’ ability to correctly handle their business, I come up with a funny idea. I decide to scoop up this big bad dookie with the plunger next to the toilet and go deposit it in one of the urinals. This probably wouldn’t seem that funny to most people, but my reasoning at the time was that someone would go to use the urinal the next morning and see the fecal beast floating there, and come to the logical conclusion that somebody had actually used the urinal to make due with a number two. Needless to say, I felt highly accomplished, and was giggling to myself like a little girl at this point. I brushed my teeth, then headed off to bed and had sweet dreams of a bright future.
I get up the next morning and go to the restroom. Much to my dismay, my handiwork is nowhere to be seen. It’s still fairly early in the morning, so I assume that somebody took care of the log before anyone else on the floor had the chance to be greeted by the urinal intruder. At this point I feel crushed and defeated in a way that nobody can understand, save for an Olympic athlete who just missed out on the gold by a hundredth of a second.
A few nights later, our floor has the weekly “floor meeting” with the Resident Advisor. A bunch of obvious and forgettable things are discussed, which everyone in attendance no doubt forgot about within the hour. The R.A. ends by asking if anyone else has anything to add. One of the guys chimes in: “If it’s at all possible, could people please refrain from taking dumps in the urinal?” A bunch of other folks mumble and laugh about having seen the spectacle that glorious morning, and I have to act surprised myself, as to not give away my part in the deed. On the inside however, I’m delighted and entertained to no end. I had just won the gold medal by a nose and am standing on the podium, basking in the glowing adoration of millions.
I never told anyone on the floor of the reality behind the urinal poop though, because I get great joy in life from the thought of people never really knowing the truth behind something bizarre or funny. I am entertained by the idea of somebody, somewhere being reminded, then potentially telling someone else about how some dude took a dump in the urinal back in the day when they were in college. If I had told everybody, the magic would have been ruined for me and Santa would have ceased to exist.
You just read a story about an adult putting feces into a urinal, and I apologize for that. The end.