Sprinkles And Splatters, Or My Experience With Quiche Por-Ce-Lorraine

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Editor’s note: This picture arrived in my inbox last week with the following story.

I work at a popular American restaurant chain that serves basic diner food 24 hours a day. Since I just started, I have been saddled with the night shift. This means I am usually the only server on the clock from midnight to six a.m. I am not alone, though. I work with a night shift manager and a cook. I have to bake pies, bus the tables from other servers, and stock the server’s station for the morning rush. Until this week, nothing weird had happened during my shifts. Then the coke head came in.

She was thin and grinding her teeth and, to my surprise, completely open about the fact that she had coke on her. She was supposed to take it home to her husband. She needed a quiche to go. She had to use the bathroom. Boy did she use the bathroom.

I did not think about how good she smelled after she came out of the restroom until later, of course. She was wearing perfume, lots of it. Now I know why. She had to find a way to camouflage the smell of what she did.

We found out after she left that the walls of the Ladies' Room were covered in poop. It was like a giant child had gone off the deep end with an over-sized brush and a limitless amount of brown paint. The stall was Polockesque, as my mother-in-law would say. And where you might expect to find poop, the changing table, I found remnants of coke lines. She had the gall to tell me she didn’t do all the coke and that she saved the lion’s share for her husband. What kind of person tells a complete stranger that she didn’t do all the coke? Besides, we all know she may not have done all the coke, but she did most of it. I noticed she even left some for the next baby who was going to have its diaper changed.

The thought that someone had to clean up her artwork scared me to death. I did everything else during the night shift. Please, God, I thought, don't tell me I have to wash the poop off the walls too. Luckily for me, poop detail was not in my job description; it was in the cook's. And this is why I wrote in to PoopReport. I thought you might want to see a picture of a fry cook dressed up for battle against poop-covered walls. Here you are. I don’t think this guy is paid enough.

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3 Comments on "Sprinkles And Splatters, Or My Experience With Quiche Por-Ce-Lorraine"

Deja Poo's picture
Comment Quality Moderatorj 1000+ points

I did coke for years. I've been plenty high before and done more than my fair share of stupid stuff while stoned out of my gourd. I don't recall, however, crapping all over my own or anybody else's bathroom. Of course, I might have been high enough that, even if I had done it, I might not recall it, so take that last statement for what it's worth.

In any case, if the cook cleaned up the mess, then s/he deserves a raise.

Yo quiero Taco Bell.

crohnsplosion's picture
m 1+ points - Newb

When people are really spun, sometimes they just poop like mad. My dad is a drug counselor at a detox facility, and he has poop horror stories about coke and crap being nice bedfellows. I have one, too:
When I first got married, my husband was working at this mom-and-pop grocery in our hometown. This customer used to come in at about 5:30 every morning, a old homeless Vietnam vet that we affectionately called Cracky Joe. He did something pretty similar one morning, pooping along the rim of the commode and slamming it down, causing the shit to ricochet all around the single-shitter mens' room at Rehkoph's Family Food. As a cracked-out cherry on top of the mess, he kindly left an old, dirty broken crack pipe on the back of the toilet tank, we assumed for the next restroom patron. After that Cracky Joe was welcome to shop at the grocer's, but never to use the restroom. Ever.

This here's Little Brittle and the C-bag. And he's kickin' it, elderly school.

crohnsplosion's picture
m 1+ points - Newb

Also: My dad said it's something about the excitement of doing it, people will fart and poop if they know that they are about to do some coke. I find that beyond bizarre. I would not enjoy a drug that makes me shit before or after, I do that enough on my own!

This here's Little Brittle and the C-bag. And he's kickin' it, elderly school.

ChiefThunderbutt's picture
PoopReport of the Year AwardComment Content ModeratorComment Quality Moderatorf 5000+ points

I worked in the grocery business as a meat cutter for many years. I have seen some of the most disgusting things in grocery store bathrooms. We once had a phantom shitter hit us several times at an Albertson's in Madison, Tennessee. He would hang his ass over the back of the seat and drop a quart or two of poop that was the consistency of soft serve ice cream. I was getting ready for sinus surgery and had absolutely no sense of smell at the time so I volunteered for cleanup duty.

Cleanup was a snap since there was a floor drain and I had high top rubber boots that I wore during cleanup time in the meat-room. A few minutes work with a hose and squeegee would leave the room as good as new. I was considered a hero by all the stock boys.

If I had two faces do you think I'd be wearing this one?

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