Skipper At The Porcelain Helm

m 1+ points - Newb

I live in a charming little city in Wisconsin and have an insanely boring job. I am a junior partner in Trusts, Wills, and Estate Law. The fifty hours a week are mind-numbing, but the perks are darn good, the ladies are cute, the Country Club membership comes in handy, and the leased Mercedes is blue.

One of our founding partners, who also owns a couple of banks, is older than dirt. The old codger comes in to work bright an early every day at the crack of noon sporting a bow tie and one of many seersucker suits (in the summer). I gotta’ give the old fart some props, though, because after his first wife divorced him, he remarried a bleach blonde of the spry age of sixty or so, whom I will call Bambi. And the two of them popped out a little whippersnapper, whom I will call Skipper. Wouldn’t you know, but Bambi must have seriously fried her already-puckered uterus with a deadly combination of Virginia Slims, Peroxide, Ammonia, Tanning Oil, and Peach Brandy; because little Skipper seems to claim every questionable, dysfunctional disease on the planet: ADD, Tourette syndrome, addictions to both sports drinks and video games, tinnitis (ringing in the ears), and narcolepsy.

Actually, he’s not so little; he’s a grown boy in the body of a hairy hobbit. It’s not that I’m picking on Skipper, either, because he’s nice in his own way, and I try to help him around the office; buts its hard. You see, Skipper has failed the bar three times and has given up passing it.

So Clive Cusser (the nickname for the founding Partner) allows Skipper to work for the firm as if he’s an attorney—a sort of paralegal. Sometimes customers don’t know that he’s actually not an attorney, because he makes calls, takes people to lunch, gophers, goes to the printer, and picks up the mail.

Last week Dad decided to let Skipper think he was running the office while he and wife Bambi had violent Viagra sex followed by megadoses of nitroglycerin down in the Caribbean. On Friday, I showed up to work late; and my appointment, Mrs. Wiggins, was already waiting in the office. Skipper was trying to make conversation with the poor woman:

“Im running the … DONKEY KONG! DONKEY KONG! ... office this week for Dad”. (Donkey Kong is his favorite Tourette exclamation.) The woman looked horrified.

I ushered her into my office and told Skipper loudly, “I’ve got it from here!” I then gave her a pat on the back and whispered to her that Skipper was on medication, which seemed to relieve her.

Mrs. Wiggins is about eighty years old and had come in to redo her will. She looks like Betty White from that Golden Girls Show. She asked to use the restroom adjacent to my office, which gave me a chance to fire up the coffee pot and jump start my system. I was honestly barely awake at the time.

And that’s when I heard a bloodcurdling cry from the restroom.


She opened the door. It smelled like somebody had sucked out a gallon of liquid poop from a ten year-old R.V. container and then threw it on a George Foreman grill until it got so hot that even the cord melted. Mildred became so sick that she started to vomit, went toward the toilet, thought better of it, and then spewed chunks into the trash can. Her projections sounded like somebody grinding light bulbs in a garbage disposer.

I immediately retreated into the office and opened the window, and almost hurled myself out; I had never smelled anything so vile.

A few minutes later, Mildred practically crawled out of the bathroom, and I went in to have a look. A nineteen inch festering turd the color of a burned marshmallow was roped around the bowl. It appeared that a foggy haze surrounded it, rising up like a toxic chemical reaction. I think there were giant lumps of peppers and onions sticking out of it .

I immediately hit the flush button, and somehow two thirds of the behemoth slithered out of site. Five flushes later there was only a big skid mark in the bowl marking its territory, as if awaiting a bureaucrat to arrive from the Guinness book of World Records.

We were unable to continue our meeting after this, and I relieved Skipper of his duties for the day, which made him agreeable happy. His explanation for the turd was that he had experienced a harrowing brush with death from a Taco Bell at closing time the previous evening. The employee working the drive-thru handed him his burrito as if it was about to burst into flames. Apparently, as some sort of high school prank, the giddy closing crew made a joke burrito stuffed with jalapenos. Skipper is quite well-known at that Taco Bell, as he tries to hit on the cute high school girls at the drive-thru window. Naturally, Skipper ate the whole concoction, washed down by giant gulps of Mountain Dew.

I’m still not sure how to explain to Clive what happened.

9 Comments on "Skipper At The Porcelain Helm"

MSG's picture
Comment Quality Moderatori 2000+ points

Tell Clive the truth. It sounds like Skipper has "issues" aside from major turds. But failing to flush the company toilet when clients might be expected to use it--that's vile. (Reminds me of the dirtiest trick I heard of in real estate: Go into another person's listing, have a bowel movement in the toilet, leave it unflushed, and place that other person's business card prominently on the premises. I don't know how well that worked, but I heard about a few angry people because of it.)

doniker's picture
j 1000+ points

I see it is Fake Story Week. This story is such fiction....and you had to add the old boring "Taco Bell as the culprit" unoriginal.

C Everett Poop's picture
j 1000+ points

Certainly well written but also certainly fake. Nice try anyway.

Deja Poo's picture
Comment Quality Moderatorj 1000+ points

The smell of shit coming from a law office. Who would have thunk that were possible? The only question is, does the amount of time somebody spent cleaning the old lady's puke from the trash can constitute billable hours?

(Note: I work in DC. You can't spit without hitting a lawyer or a paralegal. The place always smells like an open sewer. Coincidence? I think not!)
Yo quiero Taco Bell.

Yo quiero Taco Bell.

Thunderbox's picture
PoopReport of the Year AwardComment Quality Moderatorj 1000+ points

Fake or not, it`s still a good story, Vic.

I detest lawyers with great intensity and can`t think of a better thing that could have been done to their office....well done, Skipper!

The voice of sanity

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

You are right T-Box, in an ideal world legal agreements would be written in language that a non-lawyer could understand. Hell ... lawyers don't even understand legalese, that's why they charge you an arm and a leg to argue with each other.

I am reminded of the anecdote in which a man entered a bar and shouted out, "all lawyers are assholes!"

A man immediately stood up and said, "I object to that statement!"

Another patron said, "Why, are you a lawyer?"

"No", the guy replied, "I'm an asshole!"

Eat chilies and feel the burn!!

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

daphne's picture
PoopReport of the Year AwardSite AdminComment Content ModeratorComment Quality Moderatore 6000+ points

I, too, have begun to suspect these are fake stories. Vic says he's a lawyer, but in the original document that he sent me, he not only made gross grammatical and syntax errors, but he also misspelled paralegal and bureaucrat.

.....hugging bunnies since 1969

.....hugging bunnies since 1969

ChiliKahKah's picture
j 1000+ points

Wisconsin is one of the few states where the bar exam is not required of Wisconsin law school graduates. If Skipper was a few fries short of a happy meal, you wonder why Daddy would send him to an out of state law school when mere graduation from a Wisconsin law program would net an automatic admission.

daphne's picture
PoopReport of the Year AwardSite AdminComment Content ModeratorComment Quality Moderatore 6000+ points

Well, I'm not surprised at anything involving the legal community anymore. My best friend just lost her kids in one of the most terribly-run court systems in the country. (Youtube Hardin County Kentucky CPS corruption). Judge Brent Hall, who was a prosecutor when the feds came in and caused several "forced retirements" was promoted to judge, and now he still takes children away from the better parent.

I would bet my life on that fact that he's either had a bad divorce, or that his mother drank when he was a child. I would.

.....hugging bunnies since 1969

.....hugging bunnies since 1969

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