You've already seen our e-mail reply to your message because we just sent it to you. We can always copy and paste it on here if you'd like. That way, the whole world of poopreporters can see what was said, and be the jury. As far as the "text-speak" goes, how long have you actually been using a computer? If you've used one since the 80's like I have, you would know that the so-called "text-speak" originated in the early 90's on BBS chat area that used IRC, and telnet to access. Then, moved into regular chat rooms on ISP's. All of this was well before the invention of text messaging. Do a little history.

So I can't take criticism, Dumps? Can't detect sarcasm? Criticism is one thing I can take. What I CAN'T take is someone completely changing my personal intellectual property to make it their own. And, sarcasm is one of the many services I and my husband offer, thank you very much.

Hey Logjam.... Thanks for your support. Mrs. Mad Crapper.... There is nothing to get over. Everyone told me what they thought, as so did I. That's what we do one here, right?

Thanks logjam. My husband's original story is posted in the comments section of his story. Poopreport retitled it "The Thrift Store Lady" from "The Church Lady Strikes Again." Sadly, both incidents happened at the same thrift store. Like my husband said in his original story, "gotta love east nashville, lol"

Furthermore, this was my original story before it was bastardized just like my husband's.

I work for a local thrift store in Nashville, Tn. This store has been around for a long time. My mom used to shop there when I was a small child. Now I'm 33, and needless to say this store has not aged very well.
This story took place on Monday, September 21st. I was the closing manager for this particular day. It was about 20 minutes until closing time when I heard "Section 4" announced over the intercom. Section 4 meant to unlock the restroom for a customer. I was the closest person to the restroom, so I headed that way to unlock the door. I had arrived at about the same time as a mother and her 2 young sons did. The mother told me that one of her sons needed to use the restroom. I unlocked the restroom and opened the door for him to go in. Why people feel compelled to tell me who has to go to the restroom or what they need to do in there is beyond me.....!!! Just go in and handle your business for crying out loud people!
Anyways, I had headed up front and started bringing in the bicycles, the ashtray, grills, etc. My cashier was working on the register and my other floor person, Robert, was dust-mopping the store. I noticed that Robert had made it over to the corner where the customer restroom was.
Robert and the mother were talking very loudly in the back of the store. I'm still trying to bring the merchandise into the store from outside. Robert starts heading towards the front of the store and yells for me to come back there. So I did. Robert told me that this woman's child has destroyed the restroom. He said there was diarrhea and puke everywhere. With the door propped open, the smells that came barreling out of the restroom with evil intentions, my poor, poor nose was greeted with the foul smell of a skunk that had just sprayed and a blanket of hot, sweltering puke. It's bad when you can smell the heat from what used to be in a persons stomach, 15 feet away. I could NOT bring myself to go any closer to that restroom due to smell and images that would be burned into my brain forever. When I worked at Circle K, I'd already seen the aftermath of the "Anal Assassins". I was not trying for a round 2 in this lifetime.
Needless to say, for emotional reasons I bailed on poor Robert and headed back to the front of the store. The further and faster I traveled away from the scene of carnage, damn if the smell didn't follow. I headed up to the register area, where I thought I'd be safe, but NOOOOOOOOO...... I smelled it, my cashier smelled it, and so did the customers. Now, we are all engulfed in this horrendous smell of fermented, hot pukey diarrhea.
Of course, I was waiting on the customers to say something about the permeating smell that had projected itself from the far left corner of the store. And then it happened. One of them started saying "Oh my God...... What is that horrific smell?" I'm trying to explain that there was a sick child in the store. As this is going on, I had looked back to the corner where the restroom was. Robert had forced the mother to clean up after her son. I desperately tried not to laugh, but couldn't help it. The woman was very mad and cussing because she was made to clean up after her own child.
After we had gotten the last of the customers out of the store and I locked the front doors, Robert started venting as to how mad he was. He said "If she thought she was going to leave this store without cleaning that mess off the walls, the sink and the toilet, she was crazy!" Never in my life had I'd ever been so proud of one of my employees until last Monday. We are left to clean up after so many anonymous shitters and pukers everyday. It was nice to see one of them have to clean up after themselves for once.
I am no longer employed at this thrift store, as of yesterday. I found another job at a warehouse. Don't worry loyal readers! Wherever a stomach rumbles, there is a shitty story brewing!

As a matter of fact Daphne, we have a 12 year old daughter, two 10 year old nieces, an 8 year old nephew, and a 7 year nephew. So, don't assume that we don't have children of walking age.

This was my original story that was sent in. Before it was changed and bastardized.

First off, let me say that this lady was NOT very Christian. I had gone to visit my wife at work a couple of weeks ago. She was an assistant manager at a local thrift store here in Nashville, and we were constantly scanning for things that had the "half-off" tag on them. During my looking around, the sweet tea and coffee I had drank earlier that day was finally hitting me, and I had to bite the bullet and pee in the dreaded "thrift store toilet." If you've ever been to a flea market, and seen the public toilets there, a thrift store one is only about one level above that. This one even has an emergency exit door right next to the bathroom door. Gotta love East Nashville. Anyway, on my way back to the room of doom, I smelled a strange aroma in the air, and couldn't quite place it. As I got to the bathroom door, I noticed it was locked, and decided to knock before going up to the register to ask for the key. I was greeted with an "I'll be right out." I'm a patient man, and can hold my bodily functions pretty well sometimes, so decided to wait. I was standing about 10 feet (a respectful distance) away from the bathroom when a woman who looked like she had just left from the closest church, (it was a Tuesday) and came straight to the thrift store. All she said to me was "there's no paper in there." I didn't think anything of it as I only had to go "Number 1." As I got into the bathroom, I was met by a smell that could have knocked a skunk out. The acrid air was so thick that my eyes were watering. I lifted the lid of the toilet carefully with my foot, and noticed a massive turd sitting on the bottom of the bowl. The only thing I could compare it to is the wreck of the Titanic. It had broken into two pieces, and the two halves were sitting apart with one turned around somehow. But, what was the most shocking was the fact that there was NO TOILET PAPER WHATSOEVER IN THE TOILET! This woman that was dressed in her Sunday best, had gone in there, caused a ship wreck, and didn't even leave one "survivor (toilet paper)" floating in the calm waters. I finished what I had to do, and when I flushed, I could have sworn I heard "Nearer My God To Thee" playing mournfully on a violin. But, my horror didn't stop there. When I left the bathroom, I noticed that the woman who had been in there was still in the store, and shopping as if nothing had happened. All I could think was, "This woman is shopping and walking around with a nasty ass." I also knew that this was going to be posted on poopreport. I found my wife, and let her know what had happened, and realized that this woman was nothing more that..."Oh, could it be........SATAN!"

And if this child was SOOOOOOOOO sick, it's amazing that he and his brother were running around all over the store while their mother was cleaning up his mess.

It's not enough that my story was almost completely changed from the original context, but it's another that everyone thinks I'm wrong because the mother cleaned the mess up. It's one of those situations where I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. These comments are coming from some of the same people that told me of a previous story I posted, "I Just Had To Pee", that I should have quit or found the cuplrits and made them clean it up. As well as others who said that they WOULDN'T clean it up. The one time that I don't clean up, I'm at fault because a sick child was involved. Further more, I didn't make her clean it up, Robert did. Robert asking her to clean it up has nothing to do with my management skills. I found out about it after the fact/conversation. So basically, everyone needs to pick which side of your neck that you're speaking out of, and stick to it. Of all the other stories that we've read on here, nobody else but me has been attacked and basically crucified for my actions and actions of my employees. All I'm doing is poopreport'ing. But, I can stop.