Читать книгу Escape from Coolville - Sherman Sutherland - Страница 11

Dear water-splashing fucktard,

Dude, what the hell? Seriously. What the hell are you doing in the restroom that you get water all over the whole sink counter and then that huge puddle all over the floor? Unless you’ve got flippers for hands or you’re the Jolly Green fucking Giant washing your hands after you drop a ginormous green deuce, I can’t even come close to figuring out how the hell you can get so much water all over the place. Seriously.

I used to think maybe a toilet flooded, or maybe one of the faucets doesn’t work, but it’s never wet by any of the toilets or urinals, and all the faucets work fine, and none of the pipes are leaking and it’s not coming out of the wall because it’s always dry by the wall, too. (Yeah, I checked, asshole.) So then I figured that you must be that Muslim guy who does his religious washing thing every day, but when I sneaked in to catch him in the act, he was wiping up whatever water he did splash. While this does explain why we’re always out of paper towels, it doesn’t address the more urgent question: Who are you, Water Splashing Fucktard? And how do you splash so much water all over the sink and the floor every single day? Are you washing your hands, or scrubbing up for surgery? I mean, even if I tried, I couldn’t make that big of a mess. That’s what I don’t get. What is it, exactly, that you’re doing?

And why don’t you ever wipe it up? There are paper towels in the paper towel thing right now—I checked—so you could have wiped up that big wet mess. But, no, that’s not your style. And, thanks to you, water-splashing fucktard, I have a dark wet spot right in the middle of my crotch from when I leaned in to get an eyelash out of my eye. So now it totally looks like I soiled myself, because I’m wearing my light gray cotton pants, so the wet spot is super-dark and right there where no guy wants a giant wet spot to be. And I can’t untuck my shirt to cover it up, because then Smeagol would give me a PIN for a dress code violation. I tried to make another wet spot over to the side, thinking that’d make it clear to everyone that it isn’t pee on my pants, but that didn’t work at all, so now it just looks like my penis was spraying out full force like a fire hose that nobody’s got a hold of. Then I was too embarrassed to go into the break room or outside to smoke because I didn’t want any more people than necessary to see my huge wet spot. So I couldn’t get a cigarette or a Sobe tea or any CornNuts. So now I’m hungry, thirsty and stressed. All because of you, fucktard.