Nincom-‘poop’
I was in the midst of my daily ritual of cleaning my retainers in the communal restroom when I was hit by a sharp, pungent, putrid smell.
Perhaps it was my tongue acting up again, I thought. I half-heartedly scrapped my tongue and took a breath-odor test. The smell lingered.
Now what on earth did I have yesterday night?! I quickly combed through my memories of the night before and clearly remembered watching Bridget Jones’ Diary at one in the morning before passing out on the bed, barely bringing myself together to answer a friend’s query on a specific classroom’s location. Not that I could remember I consumed any heavily sugary food or beverage, or uncooked meat of any kind - I did come to an epiphany a few years back that having sashimi without brushing your teeth will transform one into the best human repellent the day after.
Back in my room I took twice the daily dosage of the oral disinfectant and thought it will be the end of the story. Not.
Entering the restroom again, this time for a quick morning shower before I turn up late for my first commucations module tutorial, the smell was there again. Now it was all over the restroom, and I was pretty much convinced that it wasn’t me.
I headed for my favourite shower stall, only to be deeply shocked by the scene that greeted me. Someone apparently discharged his entire bowel’s content all over the floor of the cubicle opposite. That unmistakable brown, gooey slick covering the floor, dripping fresh from the seat cover and some even ended up on the wall.
The coverage was so huge that the person couldn’t avoid stepping on some of it, leaving a trail of foul-smelling semi-solid excrement leading from the cubicle right up to the row of sinks.
Out of the many water closets in the bathroom, that nincompoop (pun intended) decided that picking the one right across my favourite shower stall is the best idea. Ever.
Even if he is in a desperate rush with the danger of a huge case of flatulence followed by explosive bowel discharge - he picked the second water closet from the door. Wow, he even had the time to decide.
In the middle of my bath, a female cleaning entered the bathroom and started screaming and cussing in a local dialect, of which content I feel inconvenient and awkward to reveal here. In the simplest linguistic term she meant <expletive> there’s <expletive> everywhere <expletive> <expletive> <expletive>. I can totally empathize with the cleaners who had to face this mess.
If you’re wondering, the photo is the exact same cubicle which was previously bathed in human grime - only that it’s taken 12 hours after the mess was discovered.
