Friday, October 21, 2005

The Ghost of Abraham Lincoln

Spending time getting intimate with a little porcelain and disinfectant is something that I figure that most of us normal people have to do on a regular basis. Our homes, our toilets: we clean them/we know them. What goes in as well as when, and to forget it when it goes/comes out. Cleaning other people's business has given me some rather interesting topics for a possible coffee table book, fingers crossed. I could expound on fecal matters, but that's too crass, base, even for a seasoned mop jockey like me. Oh, what the hey!

I promised you a ghost story and now I'm talking about poo? Bear with me, you'll get to have your cake and eat it...probably not a good analogy here. First, we will talk of matter, then of spirit!

I can sling a johnny mop like it's nobody's business. Snaking is not breaking me either. A plunger thrown asunder by no one other than my brother...hell I'm just riffing now! The point is, I'm the shit when it comes to it. I've seen much, if not all, that can go wrong in a stall. But, there is one thing that has vexed me so...a mysterious phantom lurks within the thunderbox! He is the ghost of Abraham Lincoln!

My first encounter occurred while working as a school administration custodian. While cleaning the offices and toilets for the stuffed shirts, I witnessed many things that one would expect from school children and not principals, planners, and superintendents. So, I have concluded that such unexpected things are not actually the product of these most respected individuals, but that of mischievous spirits, sort of like Family Circus tyke, little Billy's "Not Me".

"Wowee, wow, wow!" The sight that I beheld when I swung the stall door open revealed a python coiled, ready to attack. No toilet paper in the bowl to obscure this trophy. A work of art. My eyes watered in appreciation of what it must of took to give life to such a mighty creation. They mostly watered, though, because I must've just missed the artist himself. Art stinks, by the way, especially when preceded by an "F". What excellence, I thought. Here is someone who thinks so highly of what they have done, that they have skipped formal hygienic procedures to leave in full view a man-size stink slinky.

I thought that I was only treated to a one-time performance piece, but others followed. They were the same size and consistency of the first one . Lab tests confirmed that it was not of human origin. Okay, I lied there, but you should've seen these things! I even went in a bathroom, cleaned it, came out of the bathroom, returned to the bathroom within minutes, knowing of no other people to be present, and then finding the phenomenon had occurred again. I was past suspicion now; I knew that I was dealing with a pooltergeist.

I used my powers of deduction, and what cunning God gave me, to figure out who was behind these "gifts". Poo>logs>>log cabin>Lincoln Logs>Abraham Lincoln grew up in a log cabin>Lincoln was killed by John Wilkes Booth while enjoying some theater, Lincoln was holding it in until the play was over, yet never had the satisfaction of relieving himself properly. Conclusion: the Ghost of Abraham Lincoln has constant need to rid its bowels of the most compacted, unbroken chain of a dump that it was deprived of having on that fateful night.

As soon as I uncovered the mystery, I found that I was being followed by this ghost. Once, the ghost followed me into a Barnes and Noble. I went to use the toilet, and there I beheld his masterwork: a brick the size of a hero roll (not a lie). I tried to flush it with all my might, but the mighty beast would not be taken down. It would just sway as if being rocked to sleep. This particular artifact was witness by three other persons: two Barnes and Noble patrons, and my older brother. All were in awe. One of the men turned to the rest of us and asked, "Have you guys ever crapped a foot before? Well, I'm guessing that's gotta be about a size fourteen!"

I feel somewhat gyped, though. I never had a "Sixth Sense" moment, where I got to resolve the ghost's problem and then saw them off into the light. If I had anything to say to Abraham Lincoln, I'd say thanks for putting an end to slavery and all comes out in the end.


Janet B said...

Thanks for your comment on my blog. I only told four people about my blog - I didn't think anyone else would find it!

The Grunt said...

Janet, I'm finding that it just takes some time before people catch on. Keep with it--anything concerning the FCC is interesting to me at least.

Janet B said...

Thanks - finally I have a place to shoot off my crazy opinions! Blogging is going to be fun! ;-)

Anonymous said...

So I'm kinda running along and I see yer blog. I stop and says "hi". Yer blog says "bite me" and then I says "ok". Yer blog tastes of dusty filing cabinets, ranky stalls, & office detritus. A flavor that, while foreign to my weathered buds, is enlightening nonetheless.


The Grunt said...

Oh man, Wine-o, is that you? Farkin' bananas! Good to have your presence. Lead us into a portion of your cortex, if you will.

Kalie said...

Terribly amusing! I myself have some stories to share on such slightly crass topics, but I refrain today, for the sake of time and space. I'd like to comment on your amazing deductive logic though... IMPRESSIVE!

The Grunt said...

Kalie, thanks for your comments. All I can say about all those encounters with Abraham Lincoln's ghost is, to qoute Marlon Brando, "The horror! The horror!"
About my powers of deduction, I've learned everything there is to know about logic and mystery solving from watching episodes of Scooby Doo.

The Grunt said...

Wow, this was a long time ago.