National Nitwit

Guest editorial by Jeremy Parsons, last user of dorm toilet

There are times when all of us create bathroom funk that causes our roommates to become, well, a bit disgusted. We all eat bad combinations of food - like onion rings and cheap beer, for example - that bring about a wave of foul odors.

Then there are emergency situations, like what we have right now after I took a mighty dump within the confines of our once-pristine lavatory facility.

And dude - we need a biohazard unit in the john - STAT!

I know what you're thinking: "Come on, man - it can't be that bad. Can it be any worse than when our beloved but menstruating friend Amber left a funky used tampon in the trash, with the door sealed, over spring break, a smell so noxious it took weeks to remove it?"

And yes - it's worse than that. I'm talking deadly. I had to crawl out of there on my hands and knees, tears welling in my eyes from the acrid fumes that emanated from the depths of our toilet.

I am still tasting the bile that crept up into my throat, an involuntary response to a stench so vile, so putrid, so ...inhuman... as to defy logic and reason.

Thus, I implore you, friends - get some professionals here in rapid fashion, before the evil that lurks within our bathroom consumes every one of us.

Labels: bathrooms, Biohazard, funk