Please forgive the bathroom humor – this is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and I orchestrated it with my own two hands. None of this in embellished. I have witnesses if you’d like to corroborate my story.
Long ago I worked in a small bank with 8 other people. The customer service representative, Rhonda, loved to play practical jokes on us all, especially the guys, so we were always on the lookout for revenge. One day it happened – unfolded rather. We couldn’t have foreseen the “shit storm” that would rain down on all of us that day.
The girls all went to lunch. My friend Kevin and I decided to put a snickers bar briefly in the microwave, then, when soft enough, sculpt it into a fuller expression of itself. We then placed it in the girls toilet, which was broken that day – there was only a tiny bit of water in the bottom of the bowl allowing the creatively formed snickers bar to bask gingerly upon the fine white porcelain. I added a little coffee and covered it with half a square of toilet paper.
It sat there for an hour or so. The elements seemed to meld together – the coffee, the melted chocolate, the water – it was perfectly convincing. As the girls pulled into the parking lot we sprayed Lysol brand air freshener throughout the office to spark things off.
“What in the world happened?” the girls sang out in unison as they were greeted with the scent of foul play. Rhonda, who hated it when we let non-customers in off of the street to use the bathroom, scolded us upon hearing that we had broken her cardinal rule. Cassie, now in the bathroom to investigate, screamed in horror.
The girls ran back to take a look. Kevin and I followed. The girls gathered around the potty like first responders to an auto accident. Kevin whispered to me “Grab that knife over there and cut it up.” As I moved toward the toilet, armed, announcing my intentions, the girls, now 100% convinced that this was no chocolate bar, screamed even louder and ran out into the lobby. This was my finest hour. I stabbed the snickers bar with the knife, removed if from the toilet, held it high, and gave chase.
Marissa, 4 months pregnant, took one look at me and began to throw up in her trash can as I paraded around the office holding high my scepter of power. My boss Blake, a somber and somewhat negative fellow, was laughing so hard he could neither see nor make a sound.
Rhonda was now standing outside of the building but poked her head in to see what would happen next. I approached her desk, lifted the impaled snack, and made a threatening gesture, suggesting strongly that I was about to slam the whole thing down onto her work station. She screamed (what I remember to be in slow motion) “Noooooooooo !!!!” The vein on the port side of her neck filled with blood.
As the now soaked and foamy snickers bar splashed hard upon Rhonda’s Office Depot calendar and everything else within a 10 foot radius, all the girls screamed. I guess it doesn’t reflect well upon me that they actually believed I would run around our office with what they thought that thing was on the end of my knife, but it doesn’t matter.
I don’t really remember what happened next. My mind, and my heart, were too full for anything else. It was a good day.