Bathroom Bombfest

Under normal circumstances, the highlight of my work day is delivering a well-written, well-presented, error-free television newscast. Unfortunately, tonight's production was riddled with errors over which I had no control. As a result, an impromptu  "bathroom bombfest" turned out to be the highlight of my work day.

By no means do I pride myself on indiscretion, however, today, this was my life. I offer my humble and most sincere apologies to readers whose sensibilities might be offended by the glaring nature of the facts contained herein, or those who may find the antics described herein as objectionable.

In the bathroom this afternoon, standing unsuspectingly before the urinal, I suddenly found myself shoved foward against the wall. Hands quite indisposed, I felt my chin pressed uncomfortably against less than lustrous ceramic tile. To share any other details would be be purely gratuitous and equally humiliating.

Appearing to retreat, the suspect seemed satisfied with his quick strike. As elegantly as possible, I regained my balance while attempting to also regain my composure. In retrospect, I should have known a subsequent attack was more than likely. This time, a foot pushed me forward and held me firmly against the familiar ceramic wall.

Aloud, I vowed revenge but, typically, the suspect was undeterred.

No doubt giggling and glee-filled, he finally entered the bathroom stall only to continue flapping his gums and offering an endless stream of lame-brained and irrelevant comments. I washed my hands and then generously soaked six or seven paper towels, lined myself up with the front of the stall and, one after the other, calmly lobbed them over the door.

I admit, his play-by-play didn't sound too promising. It described a series of near and complete misses. Judging by the slow, easy arc on the bombs, I prefer to think I plastered him at least once. At any rate, I left the bathroom satisfied justice had been served; almost.

At this point and in my defence, I'd like to say to our superiors; he started it!

I still don't know whether he was gracious enough to pick-up the towel bombs and, if he did not, I hereby apologize to building maintenance staff. Truth be known, there's nothing gracious about him. Don't think for a moment he'll feel any shame at reading these words and acknowledging these truths. This is Paul we're talking about, recently unearthed by a melting glacier.

I'm fairly certain he is an instigator incapable of remorse or reservation.

I swear, some days, work is like summer camp; awesome.