True Tale of Unspeakable Horror

...or a real life toilet humor story of survival and the power of friendship.

Life has a funny sense of humor. Oftentimes, humans are put into situations that stretch them to the very limits of their ability. In the not-so-distant past (about a year or so prior to this post), I was put into such a situation...

I work on the second floor of a house turned into the office. We have two rooms up here and a small bathroom with no ventilation. Needless to say, most of us know it's off limits for anything that can be construed as "socially offensive". Unfortunately a few of our employees who work in the community have no such qualms.

One such employee came hurtling up the stairs since the downstairs bathroom was occupied at the time. Like that infamous Jurassic park scene involving the water rippling in the cup, the sounds of her steps pounding up the stairs carried with them ominous portent. I listened in horror as the noises that came out of the tiny bathroom made my stomach turn. It sounded like someone had dumped out a used bucket of mop water into a tub. The female worker (yes, a rather large woman) then emerged, her face glowing in victory. She waved to me and my coworkers across the hall and then stomped back down the stairs.

Then the smell hit.

I threw open my windows and tried sucking fresh air through the screen covering. It wasn't working. I could feel my hairs curling as they tried to twist and turn from the foul entity climbing out of the tiny bathroom. My coworkers across the way thought I was just being funny until they smelled it too. They immediately slammed their door shut and lit several candles, feverishly praying to whatever god was listening. With a small gasp at the oxygen retreating from my window, I stumbled downstairs, eyes watering, looking for anything to combat the smell. Then I found the febreeze-in-a-can.

I went upstairs aerosoling the whole way and screaming, "The power of Christ compels you," while making the sign of the cross in mist particles. I could sense the entity retreating, keening in anguish as it was defeated by pureness in aerosol form: Febreeze.

In the end, we won the battle...but we were changed. Scarred, irrevocably by the horror we had just witnessed.

Every now and then, someone will bring up that horrible day. Those of us who lived through it will glance at each other, a haunted, distant look in our eyes.