Bathroom

The Jimmy John’s Bathroom is Absolutely Amazing!

Desperate times call for desperate situations, and in a world where TP has become the number one commodity, some people will do anything just to get their hands on a couple rolls.

Not gonna lie, it’s a little scary out there.

Thankfully, we have good people in the TP making business who are busting their essential asses to ensure the rest of us have clean colons at night.  If you see one of those fine people (shout out to my friends at Clearwater Paper), buy them a beer.  Or better yet, buy them several.

Despite their best efforts however, there are still shortages, and if you come across a pack, consider yourself lucky… damn lucky.  And when the day comes where you find yourself suddenly stranded with nothing on the roll, then it’s time for plan B.

Me, I’ve been known to be a public pooper.  I have absolutely no shame in admitting it.  I know some get all freaked out about the proposition, but when it’s go time, I’ll plop my cheeks in a considerable number dwellings, provided it meets the criteria.  And if you just so happen to be at one of these “essential” places and find yourself in a position where you can freshen up between the cheeks, then damn it, you take it like it’s a matter of life or death!

Forget about the current COVID situation for a moment and look at it from an economical perspective.  Every time you plop your cheeks on the potty in public, that’s one less trip you have to make at home and about 55 sheets of TP saved according to the national average (assuming you poo once a day. It’s true! I read it on the internet).  That’s straight-up money in the pocket!  Feeling guilty about upgrading to supersize?  Well don’t, cause you’re about to make that money back in the stall down the hall.  And that’s not the only benefit.  No extra time spent scrubbing or money spent on cleaning supplies—nothing!  In fact, most restaurants pay people to clean those toilets for you.  God bless capitalism!

And listen, I don’t want anybody giving me a hard time for my bathroom habits, for I know damn well that many of you reading this are planning to retire off the money you’ve made sitting on the pot while you’re on the clock.  That is, if you haven’t already.  Some of the greatest professionals out there have made well over 6 figures as chief engineer of the public can, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that I’ve made out like a bandit over the years myself.

That being said, while visiting certain establishments, I do urge you to proceed with caution.  Despite my best compliments and the fact that all public bathrooms are equal, George Orwell said it best… some public bathrooms are more equal than others.

And perhaps, one is most equal of all…

***

The day started off on a sore spot as I found out for the first time in my 32 years of existence, I would be wearing glasses full time (It’s official. I’m a freakin’ nerd!).  Things didn’t get any better as I felt a wasteful discharge looming the moment I walked out of the doctor’s office.  “Can I make it back to work in time,” I asked myself.  “Negative, Ghost Rider.”  Much to my chagrin, a Sausage McMuffin and Rockstar energy drink isn’t the most compatible combination for your bowels, and considering the walk from the parking lot to the office, that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.  “What am I going to do?  I’ll never make it in time!”

Driving down the street, an inviting sign caught my eye.  “Jimmy John’s…” 

That was indeed a possibility, and not a bad one at that.  I mean, it’s crazy how quickly they make their subs.  I remember the first time I bought one, it came out so fast, I freaked!  And the fact that it’s a sub meant I could order my food, receive it in a timely fashion, save it for later, then go use the bathroom, all within a matter of minutes!

See, they even say so on the packaging!

“Dude, why don’t you just use the bathroom before you order the food,” you ask?  Excuse me, but you are a guest of theirs.  How would you feel if I came to your house and instead of saying, “hi, how’s it going,” just went straight to the bathroom to pump a grumpy?  Oh, you wouldn’t like that very much?  Surprise, surprise.  Have the decency to make a purchase before you use their services!  Those guys work hard enough as it is making those freaky fast subs!  They don’t need any more anxiety on top of that!  Gosh… no respect.

…Now I lost my train of thought.  Thanks a lot!  Where was I?

Oh yea… So, I had to take a dump, really bad.  Time was of the essence, and if I didn’t act fast, it would be Armageddon in my pants.  “Jimmy John’s… as in, ‘The John’.  Is this a sign?”  Well, quite literally, yes, that was a sign, a big one at that.

There were benefits, after all.  I would finally have the chance to relieve myself, and I would have lunch made and ready to go for later.  The reward far outweighed the risk, a no-brainer if you asked me.  And chances were, being that it was only 10 AM, I wouldn’t even have to wait in line.  So, it was settled.

I went in for the big dirty.

“Hello, I’d like an Italian Nightclub, TBO,” I told the cashier with determination.  He wasted no time with the transaction going straight to work, just the type of go-to attitude I like to see in a young entrepreneur.  The kid was going places, that was for damn sure.

As expected, my sandwich came out freakin’ fast, and so far, everything was being executed to plan.  He even made it TBO, just like I asked.

Time out. You don’t know what TBO means?  If you don’t get TBO, then the mayo makes all the meat slide out of your sandwich when you take a bite and… listen I don’t have time to explain everything.  Just do it.  There are much more important matters to discuss!

TBO – Tear Bread Out.  SMDH… such a rookie.

Sorry, back to the story.  Next stop, the bathroom.  Vacant, the sign said.  Everything was aligning perfectly into place, like it was truly meant to be.  Cautiously, I entered the bathroom.  Here goes nothing…

Now, I don’t recall what I did that day I fell off the rock, and I don’t know when I officially became best friends with Austin Moody, but like the first time Forrest Gump every laid eyes on Jenny, I do remember the first time I set foot in the sweetest, most beautiful public bathroom in the whole wide world…

I couldn’t help but stare… stare in awe while the threat of poopy pants lingered.  I’ve been in a fancy joint with a sparkling bathroom, and believe me, I’ve been in plenty of bathrooms with personality, but very rarely do you see a perfect, aesthetic combination of both.  Heck, I’ll be totally honest, this was the very first time it ever happened!  Any other day, I would’ve stood for hours in wonder, happily crapping myself in the process.  Only the fear of committing a defiling act in such a sacred space led me closer to the toilet.

I hugged the wall, shamelessly observing the many placards that were displayed, a showcase of urination styles depending on personality type.  “They really nailed it on the head here,” I thought to myself, as I saw many of those different traits within myself, and recognized a few other characters as well.

Now that’s hilarious!
I gotta say, there’s a little bit of me in each of these.
I think we’ve all been here after a rough night at the bar…
The Ben Woodward, heheh.

I gotta say, I really like Jimmy’s since of humor!  I bet we’d be best buds if we ever met.  Hopefully someday, we will.

And once I arrived at the golden throne I was quite pleased with the appearance.  The toilet seat was clean, dry, and had no signs of those small, dried puddles of urine you’d often see at your typical bathroom.  Even the better maintained ones seem to miss the mark when it comes to those small driblets.

Observation two: no signs of fecal matter anywhere in sight.  Nothing is more disgusting than walking into a stall only to find somebody had lobbed a grenade, leaving shrapnel splattered across the bowl for the next person to observe.  Good luck flushing that away!  Or even worse, you find the ones where the previous tenant seemed to have wiping issues, as if their sphincter also served as a paper shredder, leaving a giant, unflushable wad of shredded TP in the middle of the bowl.  I never understood how somebody could sleep at night knowing they made a mess of such magnitude for somebody else to clean up.  No kidding, the things I’ve seen over the years have been quite bothersome, so much so that I even wrote a screenplay about it (fyi, if anybody is interested in making a movie, HMU at grizzlychadams@protonmail.com).

Alright, enough with the gory details.  The point is, with no need to fret about the condition of the toilet, I assumed the position to some much-cherished relief, hanging my head in content.  “Boy, I could just sit here for hours, thinking about life, the universe—speaking of the universe, what’s this?”

My feet sat upon a placard of sorts, the type you would see for a dedication, though it was difficult to determine exactly what I was looking at, thanks to my newly impaired eyesight.  “I suppose if I were to have a public toilet dedicated to me, this would be the one, but whatever it is, they must’ve spent some good money on it.  Just look at the quality of that metal!”  It was quite a dedication.  No.. not a dedication, but a list of facts.  Facts about… Uranus?

Reading interesting facts about the planets while you poo, what a novel concept!  Check out some of these facts.  “Uranus is windy and can blow at 450 MPH.”  I had no idea!  Imagine being caught in a Uranus wind storm.  No thanks.  And how about this one, “You would not be able to sit on Uranus because it has such a low density,” which is crazy, because I always assumed that the density of Uranus was quite high!

Imagine being a 4th grader assigned to write a report on a planet of your choice.  Maybe you felt royally screwed with the last pick of the draft after all the other kids went the “cool” planets like Mars or Jupiter, leaving you with Uranus.  What are you going to do?  Then, you happen to drop into your local Jimmy Johns, and viola, your report is laying literally right in front of you!  All that time you would’ve spent doing research can now be spent playing video games!  It doesn’t get any better than that!

It was a bit heartbreaking knowing it was time to clean up the deuce residue.  I feel a little weird saying this, but I was actually enjoying myself, and that’s saying something given how dreadful a trip to the bathroom can be if the conditions aren’t up to standard or if there’s a premature break.  But just like the marriage of Tom Brady and Bill Belichick, all good things must come to an end.

I reached for the roll to begin the process of—whoa, what is this?  Double ply all the way… in a public restroom?

Such luxury is unheard of in a fast food joint like this.  But once again, where others like them would be tempted to cut corners, Jimmy John’s has risen to the occasion.  Incredible.

And talk about a powerful flush!  They must have customized those crappers, cause I had never seen so much swirling suction going through a toilet, excluding airplane lavatories, and those things just straight up scare the crap out of me, literally!  No wonder they have no problems with left over debris!

Oh, but I can hear all the environmental wackos already complaining.  “Ughz, what a waste of water!”  I say quite the contrary.  Think of it this way.  On a typical day, I got about a 50/50 chance of leaving skid marks each time I unload on the John.  And as a married man, leaving that type of artwork for your wife is not only unsexy, it simply isn’t an option.  Thus, you find yourself flushing twice, even three times just to get rid of the evidence.  And God forbid you have one of those sissy European toilets that do half flushes.  You’d never survive!

Listen guys, it’s not that hard of a concept.  All I’m saying is make the investment.  Put in quality work the first time, and you won’t have to go back later to fix your mistakes.  You’d be surprised the amount of time, effort, resources, and most importantly, moolah you’ll save.

And no, I did not film the flushing process like many would have liked me to.  Sorry to say, but this is a family friendly blog, and that those types of images have not business being in a post like this!  If you want dirty, immature content, then I’m sorry, but this blog is not the place for you.

Keep it clean, that’s my motto.

“But why didn’t you just flush it again to show us the proof?”  Hey, you know me, I’m not an uptight person by any stretch.  But I can’t justify wasting a perfectly good flush just for the sake of my blog, especially after all that Jimmy Johns has done for me.  It wouldn’t be right, and well below the set of standards grizzlychadams.com upholds to.  So instead, I simply washed my hands and made my way for the door, sandwich in hand.

But I couldn’t let this experience go to waste.  “This deserves proof of sorts… a memory.”  I whipped my camera out.  I had to.  You don’t pass up the chance to capture a pivotal moment in life like this.

Just like the Nikki Minaj song, “I wish that I could have this moment for life…”

My head held high, I walked out of the restaurant with a sense of pride that day.  In my hand was a tasty sandwich and on my face was a permanent smile that not even the likes of Jay Cutler could remove.  I entered my car and drove into work; fully confident I would have a productive day.

And that’s just it.  When it comes down to it, a bathroom experience can make or break your day.  It can be the difference between a job promotion or meeting that goes off the rails.  It amazes me how often this phenomenon goes overlooked in today’s society, considering how often we drop the kids off at the pool.  Something like a clean wipe on the first try or a complete intestinal evacuation can leave you feeling elated, as if you had just received a gift from God.  It’s something very few businesses outside of Jimmy John’s truly appreciate I’ve come to realize.  Simply put, they go above and beyond to make sure your experience lasts, long after you leave the restaurant.

So, in this time of stay at home orders and quarantining, where food delivery is almost a way of life, consider supporting your local Jimmy John’s, if only for the bathrooms alone.  We’ll need them when things get back to normal, cause when you’re in a pinch, they’ll always be there to support you.

Especially at times like these.

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Chapter 18: You’re Acting Like an Animal! – A Wisco Wedding Part 5

For what it was worth, Coti, Maggie and I enjoyed a nice conversation during the car ride back to the hotel. That is, for the short bits of time when we weren’t interrupted by Bill and Gretch’s sudden and obnoxious outbursts. I don’t know what had gotten into them, but they kept sitting in the back, laughing, and giggling, and whispering, and shifting, and acting like a couple of adolescent jerks; a bunch of hyperactive kids suspended in loaded inebriation having just snorted a pound and a half of pixie stick dust!

“What’s up with you guys?” I asked in a decent manner, honestly trying to understand how every word that came out of my mouth had suddenly become the source of such extreme hilarity. The question warranted no comprehensible response, only more erratic bursts of laughter. “Whatever…” I responded in a melancholy tone, banking on my belief that ignorance is the best weapon of defense in these types of situations. Soon, their juvenile tactics would grow tiresome, and we’d cap off the night with peace and quiet back at the hotel. They had to, for they weren’t strong enough, not to outlast me, that is. Their deficient attention spans would not allow it.

“Hey, how about we get some breakfast before you guys leave tomorrow?” I asked, addressing Maggie and Coti specifically, for the two hooligans in the back had all but isolated themselves from any civil discourse with their perpetual urge to giggle.

“Oh, I wish, but my flight leaves early in the morning,” replied Coti. Dangit!

“I think I can do breakfast,” said Maggie. “I’d actually like that. Give me a call when you get up. How does 10 o’clock sound?”

“Sounds great!” I replied. Soon after, another string of giggles shot through the car. I just looked forward and shook my head, knowing the exact origin. I wouldn’t let their antics get the best of me, not in front of a couple of babes. I knew better than that.

We pulled up to the Holiday Inn and we said our goodbyes to Maggie and Coti for the night. I climbed back into the car to see that Bill had jumped into the front seat. I shut the door and gave him an annoyed look. He responded with a sudden burst of laughter. “You know, I don’t know what’s up with you guys, but it’s sort of starting to get on my nerves. You’ve been a bunch of gigglin’ little dingles ever since we got in the car!” And sure enough, my question prompted yet, another string of giggles. Ok, this is really starting to get out of hand. What the hell was so damn funny? I switched the music to the Smashing Pumpkins and screeched out of the Holiday Inn Parking lot. And wouldn’t you know it, they thought that was freaking hilarious too!

“I have an idea,” I thought to myself nearing a gas station down the street from the Holiday Inn. Maybe a different tactic, let’s say appeasement or compassion may work in my favor. Hey, it’s worth a shot at least…

“If I get you a drink, will you guys try to calm down a little bit? Please?” The lunacy started to die down, ending in a couple putters of laughter, putters that they tried desperately hard to hold in, a sign of progress. “What would you guys like?”

“Surprise me,” said Bill. Easy enough.

Two minutes later I exited the gas station with a Rockstar, a water, and a bottle of Mountain Dew. “This otta shut em’ up.”

“Here you go,” I said as I handed Gretch the water. “Here you go,” I said to Bill, handing him the Mountain Dew. I held onto the Rockstar; that would be sucked down soon enough. A few more putters of laughter were released from their mouths upon reception of the drinks. So far, it seemed as though my generosity had done nothing to aid the situation. In fact, judging by the growing occurrence of snickers, there was a good chance that it would only get worse.

“Gretch, type in the direction to the hotel on your phone,” I ordered as I pulled out of the gas station. She did as she was told, scrolling through and looking for the La Quinta Inn on the Google Maps app, at least as far as I could tell through the rearview mirror, although she still just couldn’t help but let out a few snorts every few seconds. Whatever. “We’re almost at the roundabout? Which way do I go? Gretch… GRETCH!”

“Sorry. Turn here,” she replied, her apology coming off as callous as she added a couple more snorts after the response. Bill was looking straightforward, his mouth super glued shut. Something was up.

“Um, I think this is the wrong way guys,” I said. Again, only intermittent chuckles over the Smashing Pumpkins filled the otherwise silent dialogue between them, leading me farther down a road to a modern, yet abandon office building, its parking lot so dark and empty that you could easily believe there was evidence of paranormal activity. “Dude, Gretch, I thought you said this was the way?”

“Sorry, I was checking my Instagram,” she said, followed again by another stupid chuckle.

“Instagram? I told you to—I thought you looked up the directions? Why are you on Instagram—you know what? Bill, give me my phone.” He picked up the phone from the center console and placed it in my hand. No eye contact was given. “What the? Why do I have 3 likes on Instagram right now?” Gretch’s chuckles increased in frequency, and Bill let out a couple of snorts himself through his mouth, now covered by his face. I typed in my pin number and opened the Instagram app, only to find this piece of art.

IMG_1583

“What in the—how did this get on my Instagram?” I asked with fury building in my voice. “Bill, did you get into my phone?” Bill replied with a growing mixture of chuckles and snorts that sounded like he was trying to scream through a gag. Gretch was no better. “Dude, that’s my personal security! A violation of my privacy! My property! That’s my pin number for—IT’S NOT FUNNY! I could put you in jail for that crap!” The laughter only got worse as Bill rocked back in forth in his seat, his gut rolling up and down and a consistent rate. He finally opened his mouth, if only for a desperate gasp of air. “DON’T TALK!” He snapped his mouth back in the shut position, only to continue the verbal rampage against it.

“Gretch, get it together and call out the directions for me. I’m sick of this crap,” I hollered while throwing my phone back to her with the directions on Google Maps already loaded. I popped into reverse, whipped the car around and blew out of the parking lot, the music turned up to threshold hearing levels, just so I didn’t have to listen to all the Stupid laughing going on.

“Ok, which turn do I take?” I asked Gretch.

“This one,” she replied.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“This one!”

“You mean the one coming up?”

“No, the one you just passed!”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I did say so, but—NO! Not here—Za—we just came from there!”

“Damn it, Gretch!”

“Go around again!”

On our third trip around with Gretch hollering directions, Bill giggling like a little school girl, and music blasting, we managed to find our way onto the correct turn off, although who really knew for sure. I’ll tell you what, all these roundabouts were really starting to piss me off! “What’s this? Another one—are you kidding me?”

“I think you take this one.”

“Are you sure—“

“What?”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t hear you!”

“Ok, cool.”

“Wait! Not this one!”

“What?”

“Turn the music down—NO, NOT THIS ONE!”

“Well which one then??”

“I don’t know! You have to go around again!”

The heavy blast of distortion coming from the speakers mixed with Gretch’s voice and Billy Corgan’s bleak lyrics seeped into my brain, infecting it with a poison that induced psychosis. My teeth grit and my stare hardened, petrified by the destruction forming inside my head, a destruction I was hoping would come to fruition with each passing—

“This one—you’re in the wrong lane!”

“AHHHHHHHH!”

Intoxicated…

With the madness!

I’m in love with…

My sadness!

 

“Screw this!” I swerved the Benz over to the exit, illegally crossing lanes and cutting off a line of cars in the process. I’m sorry, but there was no way I was going to make another damn circle around that stupid roundabout! “Dude, Gretch, this is the turn off to the movie theater—we’re going the wrong way!”

“Just go through the parking lot!” I drove through the parking lot, just as she instructed, only to be thwarted by a grass median separating the movie theater parking lot from the La Quinta Inn. I stared into the bright neon sign across from me, building a rage inside my body equivalent to that of Jim Harbaugh’s after a blown play call, one just waiting to explode. Bill still hadn’t said a word. His mouth was clasped shut by his hand bolted over it while sweat and tears squirted out from his beat red face, unable to control the involuntary and violent shake of his body. Innocent bystanders not knowing any better would believe they were looking at a strangled boy, screaming desperately for help with a girl in the back seat showing no signs of shame in expressing the “humorous nature” of the situation. The end result was sudden, angry, intermittent outbursts, matched word for word with a series of honks.

“I—hate—Bill— I—hate—Gretch—I—hate—them—so—much— I—hate—them—so—baaaaaad—They’re—so—stu—pid—they’re—so—dummmmb—they—will—pay—I—hate—Bill—I—hate—Gretch—I—hate—Bill…”

***

“Will you guys shut up? People are trying to sleep!” My deduced answer was a firm no, for the two just couldn’t control themselves as we walked through the lobby of the La Quinta Inn.

“Elevator’s here, huhuh,” said Bill.

“I’m taking the stairs. There’s no way in hell I’m riding up that thing with you guys!” I turned the corner and made the arduous trek up to the 4th floor. “God, what an embarrassment,” I muttered under my breath. At this point, I wouldn’t be caught dead with those turkeys.

After four long and grueling flights of stairs I swung open the door to our room and presented my haggard self to Bill who was jogging in place with his hands over his crotch, spitting out giggles during the whole process. “What is your problem?”

“I have to go pee, heehee!”

“Well that’s just too freaking bad, cause I’m going next!” Gretch exited the bathroom and Bill made a move for it, only to be stonewalled.

“Noooo! Please, I have to go baaad, hoho!” I sent a mighty shove his way, thrusting him back towards the bed before I ran into the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it behind me. “Zack, please,” he begged, banging on the door. I ignored his pathetic plea and took my sweet time taking a whiz.

“Oh man, I think I have to go number 2! In fact, maybe I’ll just go ahead and take a shower right now,” I taunted, even going as far as to turn the shower on. The banging eventually died down, and the complaints had even stopped for the moment, filling the bathroom with silence… beautiful, wonderful silence. “Wow, my tactics actually worked—finally, a moment of peace. It feels good to win one every now and then.”

I stepped out of the bathroom a minute later. “Alright Bill, you can use the bathroom now. I hope you’ve calmed down and learned your—why in the world are your pants down?” I walked over to examine the situation. “Hey, that’s my Gatorade! I don’t remember getting a lemon-lime… wait a minute—oh my God, are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me??” Bill waddled his way to the bathroom with his pants around his ankles and the bottle of “Lemon-Lime Gatorade” in his hand, again with an unabated giggle. “That’s freaking disgusting Bill! Get rid of it now, before I really lose it—You’re spilling it everywhere!”

I stood amongst the wreckage of a hotel room gone awry, my posture straight, hands on my hips, face taut and head shaking, trying to sort out my thoughts of irritation into a lecture of substance for Gretch to understand; Gretch, who sat snuggly up against the edge of the bed, of whom I still hadn’t given full eye-contact. “How could you let this happen? You’re in the same room and you let him pee all over the place!” Gretch remained silent, her eyes lowering down into her lap in deference. I actually may be getting through to her… Ok, take it down a notch. Don’t be mad, just be disappointed. That works every time.

“The sad thing is, I was actually starting to like you Gretch. And believe it or not, but I had even gained a smidgen of respect too, but it’s pretty obvious that you two have a little bit of growing up to do. I’m not even mad anymore! I’m just—oh crap!” A sudden revelation struck me. “I forgot my shirt at the wedding! Quick, where’s my phone? Maybe I can text Beth before its too late.” I darted my head back and forth for a moment until Gretch pointed to the nightstand where my phone sat. I snatched it, nearly knocking Bill’s iPad off in the motion. Although she wasn’t laughing, there was still an unacceptably large smile on her face that was poorly covered by her lazily placed hand. “Wait, there’s a text.

IMG_1585

What does she mean black pics? There’s only—wait a minute… what is this?” I swiped my finger across the notification, revealing this gem.

IMG_1584

“You posted. Another picture. On my Instagram?” Bill was out of the bathroom now, his stare only feeding my frenzy, a furious rage that was rattling my head, turning my eyes inside out, had my teeth grinding and growling, bracing for an explosion. Gretch let out a snort, the first of a long chain reaction between her and Bill that became exponentially worse over a short period of time. The snorts turned to snickers, to chuckles, to giggles, to laughs, and then to a couple of immature brats floored and gasping for air, nearly choking on their own tears.

“You know what? I’m sick of this crap! This ends now you little—“

***

A momentary lapse of reason swallowed the room, leaving each of us in a completely delusional state for the immediate seconds that proceeded. The next set of words came out like a flashbang explosion, a high-pitched ring that slowed the pace of time with a calamity of chaos enduring in the background. My coveted punch card, the one I’d been saving just in case of an emergency, was now gone; demolished, shred to pieces, completely disintegrated, obliterated… burnt to a crisp. I cracked open my Rockstar and took a mighty swig, fuel for the carnage had just begun.

“You guys are sick! Both of yas! If it were up to me, I’d kick ya both out of the damn hotel! Yea, you think it’s all fun and games don’t ya? Don’t ya?” A few more curses, uncontrolled in my release of fury left my mouth between phrases. “Yea, I’m out of punch cards, and guess what? I. Don’t. Care! I don’t care! I’m going to continue to yell, I’m going to continue to scream, and I’m going to keep on using swears, thanks to you. You think I just drove out here just for the wedding myself? No, I could’ve flown my ass across the country, saved a bunch of time, and money! But I didn’t. Why, you ask? Because I did this for you. I did this for you!!! And now you’re acting like an animal—No, I take that back. You’re acting way worse than that. You… you’re like…”

“What?” Interrupted Bill, a question that obviously left his mouth without balancing the consequences in his head. “We’re acting like what? I swear you do this every time. Every time—”

“YOU’RE ACTING LIKE BEN WOODWARD!!!”

Jaws dropped and an immediate silence filled the air, an air that had become still, still with the stench of death, the subtle resonance of vibrating bodies being the only audible sound heard and felt after the revealing of a shocking truth; the terrible (my God was it terrible!), but honest truth.

“That’s right. I said it!” I pounded the rest of my Rockstar and stood, a warrior against a pair of brutes stung by the blow of brutal honesty with nothing but the hope that it was I who would crack, I and only I to fall on my sword, to admit defeat and seek forgiveness for the insidious behavior on display and the vile temperament sprung from dark corners of the La Quinta Inn and Suites, Room 421, a space forever fouled by the indecency of two demonic creatures. They waited, and waited, and waited some more for a confession, but it would not come. It would never come, for my words—yes, my words; they would stand the test of time. They would stand a thousand years and then thousands more. They would in fact hold for eternity; they could and they would, for I meant every… single… word of it.

It started with a slight snort, sharp and short, released from the nostrils of Bill, breaking the minute long silence in the room, a deviation I wasn’t the least appreciative of. I stared him down as a crazed serial killer staring down his next victim. Another snort shot across the room. I darted my head a quarter turn, my facial expression unfettered. Gretch stared, the whites of her eyes showing and her mouth clamped shut, desperately trying to hold back a burst of noise, possible diarrhea of the mouth. Another Snicker came from the other side. I whipped my head, then another. I whipped it back. Then there were giggles, followed by the rolling of guts, and then without warning, the sudden outburst of full-fledged laughter. It wasn’t finished either. The innocence of laughter transformed into ineffable screams of lunacy, the culmination of madness, anarchy, and all other destructive forces in the world, all sourced from the lungs of two individuals on a possessing mission, hell bent on making my life completely miserable. I hadn’t seen such a disgusting display of inhumanity since the movie “Grown-Ups” starring Adam Sandler, Kevin James, Chris Rock, David Spade, and Ben Woodward’s favorite, Rob Schneider… you know, from “The Animal,” a movie of which I’m sure they’d find hilarious and react accordingly.

“Oh God…” I said to myself in a pitiable retreat under the protection of the covers. “I give up…” I buried my head between the pillows in desperation to save me from the cacophonous bellows coming from my counterparts. The hoots and hollers continued long into the night and by miracle I eventually drifted into a slumber, haunted by the apparitions sending ghostly howls across from me, only to greet me once again in my dreams… dreams that turned to nightmares matching the hell I found myself currently trapped in.

***

I woke up and sat at the edge of the bed in the aftermath of a war zone, a cluttered destruction with clothes, sheets, pillows and various bottles strewn about across the unrecognizable floor. “Dear God, what the hell happened?” Two bodies lay across from me, unable to decipher whether they were a pair of corpses or two axis soldiers exhausted of all energy from a furious battle the night before. For the moment, neither outcome mattered, for their sprawled out and motionless bodies were still many hours from full replenishment of a life that had recently been sucked from their spent bodies.

I grabbed for my phone sitting on the nightstand next to Bill’s iPad. “9:15, still some time before I meet Maggie… and I’m still getting likes on Instagram. Those bastards…” I set my phone down again next to the iPad and placed my head in my hands. “Never in my life would I get on Bill’s iPad and do something like that. Never, at least not to a friend.” My head shot up in realization. “Bill’s iPad… I wonder if he even has a password on that thing?” My curiosity was too overwhelming, and with a swipe of a finger, full access was granted to every application located on the iPad: Safari, Notes, Music, Facebook… even his camera.

Pernicious thoughts scorched my head of the potential disasters to be created with such a device. “The dastardly deeds of the night before must not go unpunished,” said a dark voice inside my head. “Just really quick. They won’t even know until it’s too late…” More and more thoughts popped into my head, guiding me towards a decision of wrongdoing, acts that were too good not to pass up. Besides, it would be ridiculous to let them get away with such childish behavior. In a daring maneuver, I clandestinely snatched the iPad from the nightstand and snuck into the bathroom, locking the door behind me, unbeknownst to Bill and Gretch, both of whom were still temporarily disabled.

With my pants half down, I placed the iPad under my backside, trying desperately hard to contain a giggle of my own. Within three attempts, I had snapped a perfect picture, and two rosy red cheeks were plastered across the screen of Bill’s iPad. A couple of manipulations later and the round mounds of posterior flesh became permanent wallpaper for Bill’s iPad. I snuck out of the bathroom, undetected of any mischief and set the iPad back in its proper place. Nobody was the wiser.

“Crack,” the sound of an opened can of Rockstar caused a slight shuffle in the bed, prematurely waking Bill from his slumber. “Oh hey Bill. I’m going to go get some breakfast with Maggie. Make sure you clean all this crap up before we leave.”

“What the heck time is it?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you go check on your iPad?” As I turned for the door, I caught a glimpse of Bill reaching for the device. I swiftly made my way to the exit before any substantive blowback could be felt.

“Oh my… what in the, UGGHA! AH, GARGAOL…” Many more illegible words came out of his mouth, a verbal representation of vomit. I was easily able to interpret the translation as I made my escape from the hotel. “Mission success.”

***

“You know Maggie, I just don’t get it. Those guys can be so immature sometimes. I mean, I try to set them straight, and I even worry about them from time to time, but it’s like no matter what I do, I just can’t seem to get through to them,” I explained over a bagel sandwich at a local café in Muskego. She nodded her head like she understood exactly what I was saying. “Their behavior just isn’t acceptable, plain and simple.”

Aside from our dealings and frustrations with the demented duo, Maggie and I caught up with the new and exciting details of our lives, happy to see that each of us were becoming successful in our own ways. It was really nice to get my mind off those two for a while.

“So where are you going after this?” she asked.

“Well, I actually don’t quite know to tell you the truth! I guess I have cousins around and stuff, but I haven’t talked to them yet, and… hey, what about Kassie? She said I could come up to the organic farm if I needed to, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did! Do you need her number? I can give her a heads up that you might be heading that way.”

“That’d be great! Let me get my phone out and get it from you—what’s this? Notification: 5 likes on Instagram—Oh no…” In my rush to leave I forgot that there was another iPad left unattended at the hotel, one without a password. I nervously slid my finger across the surface of my phone to reveal its horrific image, an image that was once normal but had been augmented into a disgusting display by some evildoer with the sole intention of making me look like jerk. And clearly, she was successful in her endeavor.

IMG_0303

“What’s wrong?” asked Maggie.

“Gretch. She hacked into my iPad. She got into my Instagram… She’s a criminal, just like her brother.”

I lowered my head in defeat, my body weakened, as if every ounce of energy had been sucked out of me by a parasitic bug.

“I can’t win… I’ll never win… ever…”

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Broventures in Tulum

Saturday, February 21st, 2014, 1:15 PM

Man, I can’t believe it’s here! I’ve been waiting for this moment, ever since we got the news over Christmas! And after hitting up the gym 5 times a week for the last 2 months, I’m ready. I’m finally doing it, baby, Spring Break! And get this, I’ve already had two Rum and Cokes, and we haven’t even taken off yet! Man, First Class is awesome, mom and dad really hooked it up, and so are my washboard abs! Sorry, I know I shouldn’t brag, but I can’t help it. All those protein shakes were totally worth it!

Oh, they’re doing that safety presentation thing. Damn, the flight attendant looks hot right now… That’s right girl, show me how you inflate that life vest—hold up, she’s coming over, looking right at me. I think she’s checkin’ me out… Let me give her the nod, ok, here we go, “What’s up? How you do— oh, my com—until when? Yea, I can—geez, sorry—uh, yes mam.” Ok, I guess they’re making me put my computer away for a little bit. No worries, I’ll be back. Spring Break Cancun, here I come!

 

Saturday, February 21st, 3:00 PM

Dude, First Class seriously hooks you up fat! A full meal, movies and everything! And the funny thing is, my poor little sister is stuck sitting in coach. Sucks to be her! I can’t wait to brag about how many free drinks I’m getting! Oh, speaking of drinks, hold up… “Oh miss, can I get a… yea, what was that one you gave me earlier, a shardinay or something? Yea perfect!” This old broad keeps coming around and filling my glass with wine whenever it’s empty. I’m not really a fan of the stuff, it doesn’t quite go down smooth like a nice, cold Keystone Light, so I’m just kind of shooting them down as fast as I can. Hey, as long it gets me drunk and it’s free! That’s my motto.

I think we’re staying at this resort, called the Tulum I think. My sister sent me some pictures and the place looks hella rad! Beachside, like 5 or 6 rooms all together, cabana style villa. I can’t imagine the babes I’m gonna be able to bring back and party with. I’ll let mom and dad take the upstairs. They’re old timers anyway, they’ll be in bed by 9. Not me though. I’m gonna party all night and sleep all day.  That’s my motto.

“Oh yea, can I try the rose kind? Yea, the pink stuff, thanks.” Let me down this real quick… whoa, there we go. This wine stuff gets you a little loopy… Where was I? Oh yea, first thing’s first, I’m hitting up the beach and the pool. They’ll be crawling with bikini babes, and babes who like to party. And then shots. Yagerbombs, cherry bombs, vodka Redbull, Tequilla Shots, Jello Shots, Body Shots, Vod— “Oh yea, get me a shot of that red stuff… Cool, thanks.”   I’m going hard, 24/7. YOLO! That’s my motto.

I bet MTV’s gonna be down there too! They always come down for Spring Break, and they have the best rappers, always. I’m talkin’ Pitbull, Mac Miller, Macklemore… those guys get me really pumped! I’ll find out where they’re partying too, it’ll just be like that one movie, Spring Breakers, where those chicks go out to all of those ragers and meet that one du

 

Saturday February 21st, 9:30 PM

Man, I don’t know what happened. I was kicking it with all of these old farts in First Class, pounding wine shots and what not, and the next thing I know, we’re here! Oh well, heheh.

Anyways, we’re taking a shuttle to our first hotel right now, the Courtyard Marriott. The driver looks like a pretty cool guy, like he knows what’s up. “So where’s the best clubs around here? You know, the biggest place to party and stuff? Hello…” Well, apparently the driver isn’t much for conversation. It’s like he can’t hear me or knows what I’m saying. Oh well, at least he’s letting me drink a beer on the way. Man, this is the life, just like those “Find Your Beach” commercials. I can finally relate.

“Hey, what do they take around here? Dollars? Yes, no, anybody?” Whatever, I’ll just give him a dollar or something for driving. They like that kind of stuff.

Well, this is it! Tomorrow’s the start of a full week of partying at the Tulum!

 

Sunday February 22nd, 9:00 AM

Down in the hotel lobby, waiting for my sister and her husband, Derek. I guess they’re gonna drive us to this Tulum place. Man, I’m pumped and ready to go! I can’t wait to get on the beach and— oh, here she comes right now. Does she see me, ok cool, she’s walking towards us, and she’s got a smile on her face… must be glad to see me. Ok, she’s got a really big smile on her face… That’s weird. I know I haven’t seen her in like a year, but it keeps on getting bigger. What the heck?

“What’s up Meathead Rob Lowe,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth.  I actually don’t know what to say, I… I’m beyond words. I think that’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to me…

 

Sunday February 22nd, 10:30 AM

For some reason, we’re going to Costco right now, who the hell knows why? I didn’t even know they had them down here, but regardless, it seems really unnecessary, for I’m just ready to go down to the pool to start drinkin’. It’s actually starting to kind of piss me off a little bit, but whatever. We’ll do what THEY want to do. While I’m here, I might as well stock up on some supplies.

 

Sunday February 22nd, 10:35 AM

I grab beer, tequila, Red Bull, and Doritos… the basics. All ready to go. Where did my sister’s go?

 

Sunday, February 22nd, 11:15 AM

“Yea, what about it? Because I want it, that’s why—What’s it to you!?” Great, now both my sisters are having a fit over this stuff, I don’t know what the big deal is. It’s not like I’m giving them crap about their wine and cheese and olives and more wine and other crap, let alone the fact that it took them an hour to get like 5 things. God, they won’t stop arguing and telling me to listen, saying there’s not enough room in the car or whatever. It’s not like we needed any of this stuff in the first place? Come on!

And out of all the things, what they’re most pissed off about are the Doritos! Something about not eating authentic Mexican food… I forget exactly what all they were saying, I wasn’t really paying attention, but they keep screaming at me to put them back. We’ve literally been going back and forth for the last 5 minute about the damn Doritos now, and it’s starting to cause a scene. All these people are looking at us like we’re crazy and—Whatever, it’s not even worth it anymore. I’m over it. They win.

 

Sunday, February 22nd, 11:18 AM

I can’t do it. Don’t care. I want it, I like it, screw it, I’m getting the Doritos.

 

Sunday February 22nd, 1:00 PM

Um, why are we driving away from Cancun? The hotel shouldn’t be way the hell out here. I’m trying to ask, but sister keeps on going off about how this rental car place screwed her our of a Jeep Wrangler. I mean, what’s the deal with this Jeep Wrangler anyway, and why does she have to have it?

 

Sunday, February 22nd, 1:10 PM

Seriously, she won’t shut up about the damn Jeep! It’s like her life is completely ruined over the fact that she can’t drive around and look cool. News flash: Who Freaking Cares! You have a car, get over it! My God, if I have to hear about that stupid car one more time, my head’s going to explode! Meanwhile, we’re still going in the wrong direction and the way she keeps on blabbering, we aren’t turning around anytime soon.

 

Sunday February 22nd, 2:00 PM

Well this just sucks. All to my glorious surprise, Tulum isn’t a hotel, it’s a town, nowhere near Cancun. It’s so nice of them to tell me this now. And worst off, the fact that I didn’t know is apparently hilarious to everybody. What a bunch of BS, and frankly, this really pisses me off. So yea, I got her to stop talking about the damn Jeep, but who cares? I just gave them a new thing to talk about. That and that stupid show about Girls.

 

Sunday February 22nd, 3:00 PM

We’re driving through this Tulum place, which isn’t even a town, but a village made out of sticks and straw in the middle of a jungle. And would it kill them to make the roads just a little wider? It’s not like they don’t have the real estate. The last thing we need to do is get in a crash with a smuggled bag of Doritos in the back.

There ain’t much for partying either, and every babe I’ve seen so far has some boner walking along side. I guess it’s better than nothing, but still, I ain’t digging it. Wait, now what’s goin… Ok, so we’ve just passed the town, and we’re starting to drive on this sketchy dirt road. What are we doing?

 

Sunday February 22nd, 3:15 PM

So we’ve been on this long dirt road towards the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of tropical trees on each side. How long do we have to drive till we get to this place? And what’s with all these “topes” anyway, Spanish for either “Bump” or “Pain in the Ass.” They’re everywhere! That’s like 4 in a row now that we’ve bottomed out on. Maybe if my sister wasn’t driving like a madman, then—Uh oh, here we go again… Ok, that’s good, let’s just take this nice and slow. We’ll get over and… Ohhhhh… Well, there goes the bottom of the car, she’s gonna have a good time explaining that one to the rental car place… and there she goes again about the stupid Jeep Wrangler… Great. Just great…

 

Sunday February 22nd, 3:30 PM

Ok we finally make it to our house, and good thing too, because I gotta take a dump. It’s a cool looking place, I’ll admit. Too bad it’s in the middle of Bum F*** Egypt. How am I supposed to pick up any chicks all the way out here?

 

Sunday, February 22nd, 3:35 PM

“So, you’re telling me I don’t put the toilet paper in the toilet, but in the trash? What’s the point? That’s completely disgusting…”

 

Sunday, February 22nd, 3:36 PM

So, their toilets can’t handle TP, and neither can anyplace else around here, at least that’s what the husband and wife who are the caretakers of the place supposedly said, according to my sister. So it looks like we put our used TP in the trash from here on. This is freaking ridiculous.

 

Sunday, February 22nd, 6:00 PM

Mom and dad pull in. They’re all in a good mood, happy to be here. Good for them. My mom asks me if I’m excited. I respond accordingly.

“Yes, I am so excited to be all the away out here, away from everything, with no TV, nobody else around, and nothing to do but spend an entire week with my family. This is going to be SUCH a great vacation…” She smiles gives me a giant hug, and tells me she’s excited too. My dad looks back in pride. From what I gather, neither of them understand the concept of sarcasm. I need a drink. Or two…

 

Monday, February 23rd, 10:00 AM

Time to check out the beach, I mean, as long as it’s right there, and its private, then why not? It looks pretty nice, at least so far, except for these piles of seaweed that are everywhere. Doesn’t bother me though, I’ll just walk through it and—UGGHHAA, God, I think a squid just grabbed my foot or Octopus or… Oh, just the seaweed. No big deal, it’s just so slimy and everything. It threw me off, freaked me out a little bit. I’m good. Really, I am.

 

Monday, February 23rd, 10:02 AM

Ok, lets try again. Everything’s good, and I ain’t a wus. Just start with the ankles… good. And down to the knees… that’s right, now—AHHH forget it. I’m out.

 

Monday, February 23rd, 9:00 PM

Spent the afternoon in town shopping with my mom and sisters, while my dad and Derek went to the grocery store. So, I pretty much did absolutely nothing until dinner. Really, the only awesome thing that happened was there was this topless babe walking on the beach near town, but I was standing there with my mom, so I had to pretend I didn’t see her. In fact, except for a quick glance, I didn’t see her! Just my luck.

I did grab some more Tequila though, we’re just about out back at the house. I needed it, too, especially now. That Costco stuff went quick

I know I shouldn’t, but it’s been a long day, and that waiter took his sweet time with the bill too. I’m just gonna take a quick little swig—DAMNIT! Freaking Topes! Tequila everywhere! I swear to God, Topes piss me off!

 

Monday, February 23rd, 9:07 PM

Ughz. You know, this dirt road is kind of creepy at night, with all the jungle trees and all. It feels like some guerillas are all hanging out on the sides, watching us drive by. And any second now, some cartel guy is going to pop out of nowhere and take us all out. How much you want to bet that after we get around this corner there’s going to—

JESUS CHRIST! Holy Mary… My God. Sweet Jesus. Holy Crap. What in God’s name!…

 

Monday, February23rd, 9:08 PM

Yea, so we almost died. Head on collision. Barely missed it. That bastard was out of control. I’ve never heard so many dirty words come out of my family’s mouth at once. Good thing I got all that… Never mind, tequila’s all over the floor.

This sucks.

 

Tuesday, February 24th, 9:00 AM

Since there’s no gym here, I might as well run on the beach to keep my tone, just in case. Also, I need to clear my mind. Mom and dad were all worked up about me spilling liquor all over the car. Something about drinking and driving in Mexico can get you in trouble. It was an accident for Christ sakes, big deal? I wasn’t even driving, and they probably do that stuff all the time around here!

 

Tuesday, February 24th, 9:15 AM

Dude, running in the sand sucks. I just keep sinking, unless I run on the buttloads of dried seaweed all over the place. What’s with all this seaweed anyways? Out of all the places, all the world’s seaweed just happens to show up right here, on the exact day we decide to come.

Oh, there’s another house on the beach. I wonder if there’s any other babes around? Ah, doesn’t look like it, at least not right now. I’ll check it out later.

 

Tuesday, February 24th, 9:30 AM

So as it turns out, right after I passed that house, this rabid dog started chasing after me. The little turd wouldn’t stop either, followed me for like a half mile, I nearly passed the hell out I ran so hard in the sand. Pissin’ me off. I can’t get back now, unless I run passed that thing, which I don’t really want to deal with right now. It probably has rabies or something dumb like that. The road can’t be too far away, maybe I’ll just cut through a little jungle here.

 

Tuesday, February 24th, 9:40 AM

It’s just been one giant mistake after another now hasn’t it? The road’s way farther out than it should be, leaving me stuck in the middle of the jungle. I swear some critter is going to jump out and attack me. Every time I step on a dry leaf it’s like they’re rustlin’ around, plottin’ and schemin’ on the low. Or it’ll be something stupid, like stepping on a big old snake or having a spider bite me. Or what if I happen to stumble upon a drug ring camp out in the forest here? How the hell do I explain myself out of that one?

That stupid ass dog. I’m about ready to turn back and whoop it’s ass.

 

Tuesday, February 24th, 7:00 PM

Good news, I made it out of the jungle alive, and I didn’t have to beat up any dogs. Bad news, my mom insists we stay in tonight and play this stupid game called “The Settlers of Catan,” and I’m almost all out of booze. I’ve played it before with them, and I know exactly what’s going to happen. I’m going to win, and everybody’s going to get all butthurt about the whole thing and start crying. It literally happens every time we play.

The thing is, it wouldn’t be such a bad game if everybody didn’t have to spend 5 minutes on their turn figuring out what they were going to do. It’s like “Gee, maybe you could’ve thought about that when the person before you was taking 5 minutes?”

 

Tuesday, February 24th, 7:05 PM

Just found out that this is Derek’s first time ever playing. Awesome. He’s gonna take his sweet time because he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and then he’s going to do something stupid and screw me out of winning, I just know it.

 

Tuesday, February 24th, 8:15 PM

Guess what. Derek just built a road that leads to nowhere right in front of me, and pretty much just screwed me out of winning. I’m honestly on the verge of losing my crap right now.

 

Tuesday, February 24th, 8:45 PM

Oh, my God. This game is taking FOR-E-VER!!!

 

Tuesday, February 24th, 9:00 PM

Game’s over, and now I have to deal with my little sister parading around like she’s the Queen of Catan. Yea, congratulations, you won your first game. You had a newbie screw everybody except you, and then you happen to have all your settlements on 4’s, which got rolled like 5 times in a row. Yea, you should be really proud of that, and the way you’re acting too. What a waste of two hours, and a giant load of BS. This game pisses me off. And I barely got anything for dinner tonight too. At least I still have my… what the. Ah Hell no— “WHO THE HELL ATE ALL MY DORITIOS?!?!”

 

Wednesday, February 25th, 11:00 PM

Nobody ever ponied up to eating my Doritos, surprise surprise. Anyway, today was kind of boring. We went to these ancient ruins, which was just a cluster of tourists running around aimlessly. The place wasn’t even that cool, but they managed to squeeze 5 bucks out of me, and everybody else who went there. And then there was this girl who was trying to do handstands and get her picture taken by the ruins, except she didn’t know how to do a handstand, so she just kept trying over and over again, right in front of everybody. It was freaking ridiculous! She was like 20 years old too, which I didn’t know people still did handstands at that age, unless they’re kind of kinky, which I don’t think she was, because she didn’t know how to do a handstand. But yea, everybody’s trying to be all nice and polite not to get in her way, and its taking like 10 minutes, so finally they—wait, what the hell is that over—

“OH F*** THAT!!!”

 

Wednesday, February 25th, 11:02 PM

A giant ass rat just walked into my room. I swear to God if there’s one thing I hate, it’s rats. Looks like I just woke everybody up too. My sister’s are running in freaking out, and now my parent’s, and, hold up… “No, it’s ok mom. Yes, it’s gone now… a rat. I said a rat. No, not a cat, a rat. A big ol’ rat… Yes mom, I’m fine… Yes, I’m sure it was a rat… It was really big… Don’t worry—ok I’ll shut all the doors before I go to bed…”

 

Wednesday, February 25th, 11:04 PM

I can’t believe I dropped the F bomb in front of my mom… I’m a horrible person…

 

Thursday, February 26th, 2:00 AM

So as it turns out, it wasn’t a rat, it was this thing called a lemur according to my little sister, who probably ate half of my Doritos, and still won’t confess, but that’s beside the point. That bastard was huge! And now everybody’s all freaked out, so they shut and locked all the doors, which sucks, because I gotta take a whiz now, and I can’t get to the bathroom without knocking on the door and waking everybody up. “Well, why is the bathroom door locked, and why can’t you get in?” you ask. Well, it’s because the villa we’re staying at is weird, and I don’t want to explain it cause it’ll take too long, so it is what it is, ok! Long story short, I’m taking a whiz on the beach.

 

Thursday, February 26th, 2:03 AM

Wow, I never noticed how well you can see the stars from out here. It’s actually quite spectacular. There are so many of them, 10’s of 1000’s. Maybe even millions! I can pretty much see any constellation out here. Look, there’s the big dipper right there! Oh, and over there, that has to be… Well, um…

 

Thursday February 26th, 2:05 AM

Gee, as it turns out, that’s the only constellation I know, heheh. Whatever, the stars aren’t even that cool. I’m done peeing anyways.

 

Thursday, February 26th, 5:00 PM

So, today we’re supposed to have this giant fish dinner that the caretakers made for us, and we’re all going to eat it together and it’s supposed to be really good. Heck, I even got a glimpse of the fish, and even I approve. This thing’s a pretty big deal to them. They even brought their daughter over too, and while she might be a nice girl, well, um… let’s just say, she’s not really my type to put it nicely.

 

Thursday, February 26th, 7:00 PM

I’m chowin’ down on this fish. Man, this thing is good. It’s got onions, and peppers, and hot sauce… I’m really going to town!

My older sister’s talking to these people in Spanish, and my mom’s talking to them in English like they understand everything single word she’s saying. They’re all laughing and stuff, and all I’m doing is eating. These are some big old fish!

 

Thursday, February 26th, 7:10 PM

Now they’re all pointing at me, and keep saying my name. My sister keeps on saying “ci.” It means yes, I know that, I’m not an idiot for God sakes. And they keep using this word, “matrimonio.” I don’t know what that means, matrimonio. But anyway, my sister just keeps on saying “ci” and the dad keeps laughing and has this big old smile on his face. They’re looking at me now like they’re questioning me. What did I do? All I’m doing is eating some freaking fish and now suddenly I’m the “Bell of the Ball!” And why does this girl keep staring at me? She won’t stop, and she keeps smiling. This is freaking me out man. “Yea, whatever, ci ci.” I just want to eat the fish.

 

Thursday, February 26th, 7:11 PM

Now what? They’re all screaming, hooting and hollering, getting all happy. The dad, the wife, they’re all just ecstatic all of a sudden. Was it something I said? Oh great, this girl’s staring even harder at me. And smiling…

I don’t like this at all.

 

Thursday, February 26th, 8:00 PM

I ate a whole entire fish. I’m done. I’m never eating… ever, again.

 

Thursday, February 26th, 8:10 PM

The caretakers are leaving for the night, but the dad gives me this big hug and says something like “Mi familia.” Yea, familiar with what? I never found out, he just hugged me again and then left. And their daughter waved one of those creepy finger rolling waves on her way out too. I’m just glad that’s all over. What a weird night. Man, I’m stuffed.

 

Friday, February 27th, 1:30 AM

Oh my God. I can’t believe it happen. This is awful.  It was inevitable. Montezuma’s Revenge has finally struck. Ugh, I feel like Hell.  It was the damn fish. It had to be. Oh God. Just a… Ahhh help me Jesus, it hurts so bad. I can’t stop.  It just keeps… UGHZ.  I woke my sister’s up too. I had to. No. Other. Choice. Door was locked. I had to go. Why is this happening?  Oh, I hate lemurs so much right now.  And fish, and—oh no, here it goes!  No…

 

Friday, February 27th, 2:30 AM

Not again!!!

 

Friday, February 27th, 3:00 AM

This is bad. This is so bad. It’s even worse than I’d imagined. Worse than Ben Woodward and the Toilet Bowl Massacre… No, nothing’s worse than that. But this is still bad. Wait… Yea, never mind, this is way worse…

 

Friday, February 27th, 3:45 AM

I have literally destroyed the toilet. As in, this thing is no longer recognizable, every square inch of it. I can’t even describe the abomination that was created. I am honestly disgusted at myself, and my body. It’s a travesty to the human race. It’s so disgusting and ugly, I’m not even proud of it. It’s horrific.  God, I think this could even be illegal, and all I can do is sit in shame over this monstrosity, and pray for forgiveness. God help me. God forgive me…

 

Friday, February 27th 4:00 AM

Please God let this be it. This is the worst. I really hope I can pinch it off and just sleep now, cause I don’t know how much more I can take. Oh, you got to be kidding me. What’s wrong with the toilet now? It’s not even flushing. Why won’t it… the toilet paper… I didn’t put it in the trash like they… Oh, F my life…

 

Friday, February 27th 1:00 PM

Well, I’m pretty much out of commission for the rest of the day. The rest of them went to a nearby beach, one without seaweed. Whoop de freaking do. It was nice of them to ditch me like this. I’d never do such a thing, but that’s just me.

So I decided to do a little reading, an activity that’s light on the stomach. They have a couple books here to read, even this one from this dude, Ernest Hemmingway. I’ve heard a couple of the smart and nerdy babes in class talk about how he’s so romantic and stuff. You know, the one’s that act all smart because they know literature and everything. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get acquainted with my old friend Ernest, and his book, “The Sun Also Rises.” Besides, there’s something about a girl in smart looking glasses that kind of turns me on…

 

Friday, February 27th, 1:10 PM

Screw that, this book sucks, just a bunch of drunken A-holes. It ain’t even worth it. What a pile of garbage. What a waste of my freaking time…

 

Saturday, February 28th, 10:00 AM

It’s our last day in Tulum. If anything, I might as well run to this bridge we pass on the way to town and take a picture of the ocean from there. Those types of pics get at least 15 or 20 likes on Instagram every time, guaranteed, half of which are from babes, and probably a couple extra since it’s in a foreign country. It’s totally worth it. I figure this, I can get some exercise, get a picture, and maybe meet some more babes while I’m over there too. Kill two birds with one stone, that’s my motto.

 

Saturday, February 28th, 10:30 AM

Oh, what in the hell? Yea, I’m at the bridge. I’m also stuck in a damn monsoon. Right when I got here, it came down, right out of nowhere, Forest Gump, Vietnam style. It’s like I’m that EPA butthole on Ghostbusters when they blow up the Marshmallow Man and all that white goop dumps all over him. I know exactly how he feels. So much for that Instagram pic, and my phone. And here’s to a 2 more miles of running in the pounding rain.

I said it once, and I’ll say it again. F. My. Life!!! That’s my motto.

 

Saturday, February 28th, 11:00 AM

Yea, go ahead and keep laughing, you heartless souls. I’m so glad my siblings think all of my suffering’s hilarious. Maybe I should stick them outside for an hour and see how they like it…

 

Saturday, February 28th, 7:00 PM

Well, it’s done raining, and it’s our last night in Tulum and we’re at dinner. Everybody is kind of in a bummer mood. I for one am glad we’re leaving tomorrow, because frankly, I’ve had enough of this place for one week. And now everybody’s bummer mood is kind of putting me in a bummer mood.

 

Saturday, February 28th, 7:05 PM

The waiter comes by, kind of a weird dude, taking our orders telling us about all the nice stuff they have. “Just get me the steak, and a couple beers, and some shots.” I’m getting tanked tonight. I don’t even care anymore.

 

Saturday, February 28th, 8:00 PM

I had hella beers and shots, and ate a steak, and I’m not even drunk. Well, whatever, I’ll be home tomorrow anyway, so who cares. I’ll get drunk then.

 

Saturday, February 28th, 8:03 PM

Well here comes the waiter again. Great, now what does he want?

“Thank you very, very much. Say, I have question. Do you play American Futball?”

“Who me? Well what do you mean, I have before and all…”

“Like, uh, what you say, profesonale?

“Oh Pro Football, in the NFL. No, but thank you, that’s awfully nice of you to say so…”

“Oh man. You look like profesonale. You look like one man, very handsome. Throws American Futball.”

“Um, you mean the quarterback?”

“Ah yes, quarter back. What his name? Roger, I think. Wears color of green. Play by water. What you call it, Bay?”

“You mean Aaron Rodgers?”

“Ahh yes, Aaron Rodger. My favorite. Fantastic at Futball. You remind me of Aaron Rodger.”

“Well, uh, gee, I don’t know what to… thank you… I mean, I can see where there’s a connection, but… just, wow, that’s just… wow!”

 

Saturday, February 28th, 8:05 PM

I am literally at a loss of words right now, as in I don’t know what to say. That was one of the nicest things anybody’s ever said to me… Oh my God. Dude, I… I think I’m gonna cry…

 

Saturday, February 28h, 8:10 PM

Say what you want about the Mexicans, but they sure are an honest bunch of people. Nice people too. I don’t think I’ve ever been treated with as much respect as I have here. What a great little town. Truly heaven on Earth…

 

Sunday, March 1st, 7:00 AM

Well, on our way to the airport now, and just went over our last Topes, at least for a while anyway. They’re really not so bad, once you get used to them. My sister may disagree, she’s still yelling over them and the Jeep Wrangler, but I can’t be too hard on her. I just don’t think she has the same sense of culture as I do.

And you know, Tulum isn’t such a bad place if you think about it. Sure it’s not for everybody, but that’s ok. I guess it just takes a certain person to like this type of stuff. A type of person who’s cultured, willing to try new things, somebody who has a sophisticated sense of appreciation for the world. Somebody like me…

I don’t how keen my family is about coming back, but that’s ok. I just don’t think they were able to connect to the people like I did, that waiter last night being the perfect example.  Man Aaron Rodgers…  I just can’t believe it.  I still feel like a million bucks!

Maybe someday, they’ll learn to appreciate the finer things and people of the world, like me. Hell, I feel like this whole experience has changed my life! I don’t know exactly what happened either. Last night, well, that was just amazing…

Oh well, until next time. They can enjoy places like Cancun. You know where you can find me.

-Grizzly Chadams

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So I Wrote a Screenplay…

So I wrote a screenplay…

 

It’s late Friday night inside the house of an upper-class neighborhood. Two teenage lovers lock lips in the daughter’s bedroom, deviously decorated with religious paraphernalia, a variety of stuffed animals, and colorful crafts to conceal her true sinister behavior. Journey’s “Faithfully” is playing through a cassette player, adding to the sensual ambience. The year is 1984.

 

Foolishly, the parents of this juvenile deviant booked out of town for the weekend, leaving behind their young royalty to finish her “research paper;” only this pretty princess has other plans in mind. “Let me slip into something a little more comfortable,” she hints at her hunk opposite to her on the bed. They’ve decided it’s time to take their relationship to the next level.

 

The hunk strolls down the hallway, fist-pumping all the way to the bathroom. He has been waiting for this moment his whole life. The fact that precious jewelry, family heirlooms, and various knick-knacks in the bathroom have gone missing doesn’t even faze this testosterily charged adolescent. His mind is totally oblivious to everything except his immediate future spent with his first and only love. A giant smile spreads ear to ear across his face as he opens the toilet lid, unbuttons his pants, and hums his favorite love song, all in preparation to take a leak.

 

He looks down, releases a ghastly shriek of terror, and steps back in shock. He shakes with an uncontrollable tremble; the sight is just too much for him to bear. It is one of the most disgusting things he has ever seen in his entire life– a large mound of bio-hazardous madness piled high inside the bowl.

 

“Babe, what’s wrong,” the girl asks with mounting concern as she bursts into the bathroom.

 

“You’re sick. You’re SICK!” the boy repeats. He is absolutely livid. “How could anybody make something that atrocious!?”

 

He storms out of the bathroom and down the stairs, brushing his princess out of the way. She follows him like a pathetic puppy. Outside, the engine of a red Camaro ignites, and with a couple of revs, it speeds away undetected from the crime scene.

 

The boy stomps towards the door and clasps the door handle before his girlfriend grabs onto his other arm. She gives him one final plea.

 

“We’re done. We are DONE,” screams the boy, as the door swings open.

 

“No babe, wait! I love you!” It’s no use. The door slams in her face and the young lover is left by herself in humiliation with nothing but the remains of an all-natural brownie mix in her stall and the hook of her favorite journey song echoing through the house. The turd burglar has struck again…

 

That’s the very first scene of a screenplay I wrote, entitled “Turd Burglars.” If you’re a sane person reading this, you’re reaction should be something along the lines of, “What in the Hell?” And I can totally understand, being it’s only the first scene in a movie that only expands in its offensive nature. I used to wonder how in the world I came up the idea for a movie centered around a “turd burglar.” Looking back however, I realized that there’s a history behind this brainchild, and even a logical explanation of how I formed this story inside my head and put it onto paper. Maybe after reading this, you may have a slight understanding of how I came up with the concept, and eventually believe, “Hey, he might actually be onto something really funny.”

 

But anyway, let’s get on with the story. It all started during your typical Sunday in the city of Seattle…

 

It was one of the hottest weekends in Western Washington during the summer of 2008. I had recently started my new profession as an engineer making gobs of money, so needless to say, things were going very well. After what some might call an excess of partying, there I lay on my good friend Ben Woodward’s futon, profusely sweating from the 85% humidity mixed with the 95-degree temperature in the air (which is very hot for Seattle since nobody has air-conditioning. Anywhere). It was early… too early, but there was no way I could gain another minute of sleep in that smoldering hot box of Ben’s crusty apartment, at least not in the type of pain I was in.

 

I rose to a hunched position, trying to reclaim the memories of the night prior. I was surrounded by Rainer beer cans, some empty, some completely full, and a mix of others in the in-between status. There was a putrid smell of garbage reeking from the overflowing trashcan with fruit flies swarming, mixed with rotten food particles clinging to the stacks of dirty dishes and mold crawling from plate to plate. Bags from Dick’s Drive-In cluttered the living room, reminding me that we had made the pilgrimage to Seattle’s premiere burger joint the night before… Now it was starting to come back to me. Maybe that was the reason why I had this terrible feeling arising in my stomach, and I’m sure my surroundings were aiding to that uneasiness inside me to come out. Not puke all over the place, but something a little subtler, a bit more normal, at least to some.

 

I rose from the futon, leaving a large puddle of sweat behind to be permanently stained into the cushions to forever remind us of this weekend. There were two paths I could go. One was the community bathroom that easily exceeded the grotesque conditions of the rest of the apartment. The other was a more dangerous route through Ben’s room where he spent his time slumbering away, unaware of the massive heat wave beating down upon us. It was a safe haven of sorts, a luxurious escape compared to the cradle of filth of which I was entrapped inside, even if it were only for a mere half-hour. The trek would be well worth the risk.

 

I snuck passed the corner of Ben’s living room that had been tainted by a black fungal like substance that perfectly contrasted his white carpet, probably an unknown offshoot of some type of growing bacteria that would have Scientist perplexed for years of its origin. But there he was, sound asleep like a little baby. This was too easy. I strutted through with a bit of cockiness to my step and slid into the bathroom. No one was the wiser.

 

The bathroom served as a solar deathtrap, further intensifying the blistering heat wave that we’d been cursed with that weekend. It was an action I wasn’t looking forward to to say the least, but it had to be done nonetheless. I sat down with sweat pouring from every pore in my body and proceeded with the dirty deed.

 

It was an absolute disaster, 20 minutes of extreme agony before I could finally rise covered in a blanket of sweat and gaze upon the vile creation pultruding above the waterline. I reached for the lever to dispose of my product that left me in total disgust, for no man should ever set eyes on what was inside that toilet; the consequences would be absolutely devastating. But then, an evil thought slipped into my mind. I stood over the bowl and contemplated my decision, except there was nothing to contemplate. I already knew what I was going to do the moment the thought popped into my head. I lifted my hand from the lever that had not yet been depressed, and shut the bathroom window. Before leaving, I casually flipped the heat lamp on and crept back through his bedroom and into the living room without his knowledge. Boy was he in for a surprise.

 

A good amount of time passed before Ben woke. He’s a heavy sleeper, he really is. So much time, that I nearly forgot about the incident and was reacquainted with an old friend called sleep. That is, until a blood-curdling scream from Ben’s room blasted my eardrums, followed by the sounds of picture frames falling and a large mass crashing into a desk, letting its contents spill onto the floor.

 

He burst into the living room, bug-eyed in his undies with sweat dripping from his dimple-imprinted forehead. “What the hell was that!?” he exclaimed, violently trembling in his socks. I sat there and tried to act surprised, but all that was delivered was a grin ever growing into a bigger and bigger smile. He wanted to kill me, I could see it in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Who could blame him? The man was absolutely petrified! The only thing he could do was slowly slide down into a fetal position, where he lay in a comatose state, letting his natural instincts of surrender take over.

 

Since then, my relationship with Ben Woodward has always had a bit of uneasiness to it, as if he never fully recovered from that incident. And unbeknownst to me, that day marked the beginning of a journey, one that led me to begin my amateur career as a screenwriter. Unfortunately, it also marked the beginning of an ongoing battle that lasted years.

 

It started out as harmless fun, as all these things do. Ben would sneak his way into my bathroom to leave a nice surprise for me, and a couple days later, I would return the favor, finding a creative way to out-do his last. The human race has a natural drive for competition, and the stakes rose to unbelievable heights with each prank we pulled. As the battle ensued, we each grew wiser, sniffing out the evidence and destroying it before it could be seen, or finding other means to outsmart the other, making each successful stunt more satisfying than the one before it.

 

But after awhile, our game had reached dangerous levels of competition. There was only so much our bodies would allow us to handle naturally before we began taking drastic measures in order to achieve the upper hand. Houses and apartments were broken into to deliver the goods, cleaners and other “supplements” were taken to produce cloggers, and eventually, the game ventured outside the bounds of the bathroom. This was no longer a game of friendly contest; this was all out war.

 

It reached a tipping point one night where emotions ran high after a round of jabs, until ultimately, and tragically, punches were thrown. Mike Gibson separated us, offering us a world of hurt if we didn’t stop our antics. We both wisely obeyed, for Mike is a certified ass kicker of all mischiviants. I think that night we both realized that we’d finally crossed the line, and it just simply wasn’t worth it to continue on. So we formed an unofficial truce and stopped the madness before it destroyed our friendship and our bodies any further.

 

Those events seemed to stick with me however, and from time to time, whenever I sat down to provide my body with natural relief, I thought about the days when Ben and I would devise schemes to force distraught upon each other, and the other times I’ve felt the same by entering a random public stall. Such examples are when you open a door to find the scene of a grenade explosion, with debris plastered everywhere, or when the world’s supply of toilet paper just wasn’t enough for that certain individual who previously occupied the stall (which actually happened today at work believe it or not). Usually in those cases, the perpetrator didn’t understand the concept of flushing whatsoever.

 

One thing I’ve tried to understand is why somebody would leave something like that for a random person to see, unless they’re just a sick person. In that case, there are a lot of unstable people out there, some of which work for the federal government, which is even a scarier thought. I do know with males however that no matter the age, dropping a giant bomb is considered a major achievement in our twisted little minds. Get a couple of us going, and you could spend a whole night reliving the history of our most decorated creations. If it’s a great accomplishment, pictures can taken and shared with friends, which is okay being it’s a trustworthy group of brethren and you’re not sharing your business with everyone in the world, most of who wouldn’t want to see in the first place. But on rare occasions, where the creator leaves a masterpiece, it’s totally acceptable to leave the work of art on display.

 

“Hey you guys, come check this out,” I remember one of the students on my floor shouting down the hall of the dorms during my freshman year of college as we leisurely converged our way to the bathroom.

 

“Whoa,” one of the kids said as a dozen of us gathered around the stall, mouths agape, marveling at the monster in the middle. We were in total amazement at the size of the object, so much that we left that stall untouched for a week. I think even the janitor didn’t even bother walking in and flushing, for he too was quite impressed.

 

It sounds like repulsive talk, but ask any honest man, and he’ll tell you about the biggest torpedo he’s ever fired, or the most astonishing direct explosion his ever encountered. It’s one of those topics that are very taboo to talk about, but once it’s brought up, we pour our hearts out, eagerly waiting to tell our own tales of combat.

 

One day while working in DC, I was in the bathroom having one of those moments of reflection, when a man entered a stall two down from me. I could tell by the way he walked in and groaned that there was a mess already scattered about. He must have been very eager to get on with business, for he wasted no time sitting down after he depressed the flush lever.

 

“What the-“ he exclaimed as he shot up off the john and water began to overflow and fall onto the tiled flooring. He grunted and stormed out of the bathroom, an action I couldn’t blame him for (but at least he could’ve washed his hands afterwards in my humble opinion). The water slowly seeped into my stall, sending me into a panic to finish my deed and jump off the pot myself.

 

While scrambling to get my things together and return to work before the flood of water outlined the reach of my shoes, a revelation came to me. How many times has this happened to people just like me, not this exact incident perhaps, but occasions where people enter a bathroom only to be blown away by what lied in front of them? It happens all the time I concluded, and it’s a situation people can really relate too.

 

My mind started flowing rapidly with stories throughout my life that I had experienced or heard where something wild and outrageous happened during a trip to the bathroom. There were so many, most of which people wouldn’t dare talk about in the public sphere, but deep down in the darkest parts of their sick little minds, would secretly love to hear.

 

Some nights later, I picked up a book on how to write screenplays. I was on to something, something really good. I breezed through the book, picking up on the storytelling techniques and screen writing formats as if they were second nature. I was ready. I opened up my computer, and began writing, and didn’t stop.

 

The words were placed on the paper draft as if they were diarrhea; they just didn’t stop flowing! The more I wrote, the more the storyline and characters seemed to develop clearer inside my head. There was no guarantee that people would like it, and even a lower probability that it would ever be made into a movie, but as long as the ideas kept pouring out of my brain, it was my duty to put them to paper and release my vision to the world, and now after over two years of writing, editing, and rewriting several times, I eventually produced a product ready to send out to the masses.

 

The story centers around two police officers, one, a rookie cop named Jones who is full of potential, but still has a lot to learn about the force. The other, Jackson, a washed up loser, was once the premiere detective of the local police squad before tragedy struck him and his family. Now he’s been given a second chance to put his life back together and mentor his young apprentice. Through their pursuit of a vicious cat burglar terrorizing the neighborhood, the two work and grow together, forming an unforgettable bond to catch this relentless villain, who leaves behind no evidence except for a single calling card; a giant mess at the bottom of the toilet for his victims to discover, leaving them overcome with fright and quivering in fear.

 

As these cases increase in their frequency, the public’s concern grows, to the point where people contemplate even entering their own bathroom, and parent’s worry that their child’s next bathroom visit could be there last, as the horror of such a monstrous scene would haunt them for the rest of their short lives. Jackson and Jones must do everything they can to catch the perpetrator before it’s too late and the town is left in a giant heap of waste, getting themselves into a couple sticky situations along the way, some of which nearly cost them their jobs, and their lives.

 

All the while, Jackson must prevent his protégé, Jones, who is eerily following in the same footsteps of his shaky past, from self-destruction; one that the turd burglar, whom we eventually find to have a close connection with Jackson, is all too eager to see through.

 

Apart from a fanfare of dirty tricks, silly jokes, and outlandish situations that the two heroes find themselves constantly tangled in, “Turd Burglars” in the end is a story of good vs. evil, friendship, and learning how to cope with the demons that hold us back and prevent us from moving on. Set in the 1980’s suburban dreamscape, “Turd Burglars” places normal people looking for their shot at the American Dream up against an out of this world villain for an epic showdown you’ll have to see to believe…

 

So if you’re interested in reading my story, or even getting a large group together and doing a screen reading, I’d love to share it and get your thoughts on what you think of it or how it could possibly be better. Even with such an unconventional subject matter that’ll leave the purest of hearts shying away, it’s something I’m actually really proud of and that I think people would really enjoy. I mean, how many people do you know that can say they’ve wrote a screenplay? It actually takes a lot of work coming up with a complete, full-length story. But now, it’s finally complete, and hey, maybe if enough people show interest, we can make a movie! That would be a dream come true.

 

But until that day comes, let me know if you’re interested, and I can send you a copy, and if we get enough people involved, we can turn this dream into a reality. Let’s make this happen!

Enjoy!

 

Grizzly Chadams

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