The Naughty Little Boy

I used to work for an ISP about…ten years ago…actually, I guess I quit a little over six years ago.  At some point during my time there, we hired a piece of shit who liked to piss all over the toilet and the floor around the toilet.  After, oh, once, this got old.  I didn’t know who it was but most of the new hires were in the tech support department and the recent hires in other departments were all girls so I decided to just ask tech support as a whole to take a little extra time with their aim whenever they went to piss.  This accomplished exactly nothing.

So, one day, while on hold with SBC (you could be on hold with them for literally hours back then), I overheard a coworker complaining about the piss-y toilet and floor in the bathroom.  This made me angry and I decided to write a company-wide email in the hopes that it would shame the useless fucking idiot into better behavior.  This is the email I sent:

Once upon a time, in a far off land in the middle of the damn desert, there was a naughty little boy who kept sprinkling the toilet seat in the little boys room.  This made all the people of the land very sad.  All the little boys anyway, the little girls just rolled their eyes, not being able to comprehend leaving such a mess behind.  The naughty little boy didn’t care however, and kept leaving nasty evidence that he’d relieved his bladder every time he went into the little boys room.  Nobody knew that the naughty little boy was responsible for these toilet-related atrocities, which is why he kept getting away with it.  It got so bad that some little boys started going into the little girls room, which opened them up to attack from the little girls, but at least they no longer had to deal with damp seating in the little boys room.  One day, a giant was passing through the land, when he felt pressure on his bladder.  Seeing the little boys room near by, he went in and was horrified to see the mess that was waiting for him.  He cleaned the little boys room and then made use of the facilities, and then cleaned it again, as any decent person would do.  The giant asked the little boys and girls how the little boys room could have become so nasty.  All the little boys and girls told the giant that some very naughty little boy with an obvious low upbringing and no regard for anyone but himself, kept making a mess of the little boys room and that there was nothing they could do since they didn’t have the slightest idea who it was.  The giant decided to help the little boys and girls of this godforsaken desert, and told them all that this awful problem would soon be solved.

The giant walked to the other side of a nearby building and poked his head up over the roof and didn’t move.  He watched the little boys room for a very long time, and just as he was ready to give up, the naughty little boy walked into the little boys room.  The giant watched intently, and a minute or two later, the naughty little boy walked out of the little boys room with a smug expression on his face.  The giant knew a guilty looking face when he saw one, and he leapt over the building, landing right in front of the naughty little boy who was now so scared that he would have soiled himself, had he not just made a mess in the little boys room.  The giant grabbed the naughty little boy by the arm and opened the door to the little boys room.  Seeing the mess, he turned his one-eyed gaze back to the naughty little boy.

“So you’re the nasty little bugger that keeps makin’ a mess of such a fine little boys room!” he said, lifting the naughty little boy up in front of his face.  The giant rose to his full, twelve-foot stature.  “You’re a very naughty little boy indeed!  What kind of self-centered freak doesn’t clean the toilet after he’s done with it!  And you have the audacity to call yourself a human!”  And with that, the giant climbed to the top of the tallest building in the desert and threw the naughty little boy off the roof.

The little boys and girls rejoiced, and there was much celebration and laughter.  The giant was proclaimed the greatest hero the desert had ever seen, and there was a parade with fire-breathing gypsies and elephants and clowns.  Afterwards, everyone had cake and punch.

Years later, the little boys room was clean and shiny, and the little boys and girls could not remember a time when it was ever messy.  The naughty little boy had completely faded from memory, and not a single person mourned his death.

The sloppy pissing did stop but I don’t know if it was a result of this email or not, since not too long after I sent this out, a few people were laid off.  I’d like to take credit for it, of course, but ultimately, pissmageddon came to an end so who cares?

About

Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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