Supermarket Mayhem: The Bathroom Bandit

Obscurity can be a good thing. Of course, in this case, it falls to pieces. A fine gentleman likes to frequent my job at the wee hours of the morning. Every day, Monday through Friday at 6:30am. Men do have their necessities, and he is no exception. The Illustrious Amoeba. Mighty Morphin' Jack-Offer. Good ol' Bathroom Bandit. Rushes through the front entrance at an ejaculation a minute, to be precise.

I have made attempts to lock up the newspapers before he comes, in sincere hope that he doesn't find them. No matter the obstacle, BB uncovers them as if they were buried treasure. Now, logic reads that should he have a "need", he might grab a Maxim. Perhaps a Playboy. Nope. The New York Post will do just fine. Don't sweat it. Politicians make me horny, too.

So Ejaculator Ranger makes sure that he has the correct newspaper. Because, you know, only the best headlines will do. The God's throne awaits, and this talent has a duty to fulfill. Into the light, into the room, keep the seat down, while I dust off my broom.

10 minutes of a high wear off, and Darth Bater proudly announces his return by saying good morning to me. Soggy, not dry. Hands return the Post to the rack, while I stand nearby, covering my back. Poor customers only want a New York Post, and only one copy remains. Guess who.

One time, I had to use the facilities after this fellow. How do I know what he did, you ask? Simple. Seat up, toilet paper has taken on an unusual form in the toilet. My God, it shall never be safe again.