TB, MTAE and I have been talking some gross shit lately.

I think I’ll keep that going for just a little while later. Not that I want to, it was thrust upon me.

On the front door of my building this morning, bright and early, there was blood splatter. Splatter is such a gentile word. It was a blood drenching.

I had to walk over it just to get to where I could repair the situation. It reminded me of the time someone shit on the building. Oh, I know what you’re saying,

“Come on, Chris! It was probably just a dog.”

To which I say,

“Sorry, gentle wanderer, I’ve never seen a dog splatter shit three feet off the ground in a two foot diameter.”

I have to assume the pressure of bending over and the strain of having to shit quickly helped the spray along.

I put on the old rubber gloves, get out the pressure hose and attempt to clean up our newly painted building.

No joke. The building was painted just this week. Ain’t it always the way? You wear a new shirt for the first time and someone has to stab you fifteen or twenty times.

I turn to grab the bleach when I see an amazing sight. People getting off the bus. Not just any people. It was like a reverse nesting doll getting out of a clown car.

A smallish one, then bigger and bigger and bigger until, hot damn how’s he going to get out of that bus?

I watched for a moment as they congregated on the sidewalk. Damn, humans are getting too large. I shrug and get back to my crime scene cleaning.

Suddenly, the cloudy day got darker. I turn around and there is a scenery eclipse behind me. The larges surround me, a little to close to blood for someone who doesn’t have to deal with it to me.

“Hey, do you know where the bar-b-que place around here is?”

You know, I’ve seen many accident scenes, very few I’ve thought,

“Hey, see that guy with the jaws of life? Let’s ask him how to get to the carnival.”

I put down the bleach, toss away some of the rags I’m using, take off my gloves, point toward my left and say,

“Walk straight down that street, around the rotary and you can’t miss it.”

I start to put my gloves on to complete cleaning up blood I doubt I’ll ever know the who or whys about when one of them says,

“About how far is that?”

“Quarter, half mile.”

You would have thought I’d said,

“Quarter, half mile and when you get there you’re going to have to clean entrails off the windows.”

by their reactions.

They grumble, I splash bleach on the doorknob to make the business presentable to non-serial killers.

So, how was your morning?


6 responses to “Gross

  1. you shoulda told them “where do you think they get the barbeque?” pointed towards your door then left them laughing hysterically.

  2. Fat people don’t like to walk that far to their bar-b-queue places. You’re damn lucky that fat guy didn’t eat you right there on the spot, mistaking the blood for bar-b-queue sauce.

  3. Not a biohazard, at least. So far.

    +1 and a high-five to David, by the way!

  4. This has sparked a memory…about a fellow construction worker and a precarious position he put me in…not blood though.


  5. Were there any bullet holes in the door? Severed body parts lying on the ground? Don’t even think you can gross me out; I bait my own hook when fishing!

    And being a nurse, shit is what I’m all about! Did you shit today? Large or small? Hard or soft? Color? Foul odor? More foul than usual? These are questions that I ask everyday, because inquiring minds want to know!

  6. Biohazard? One part bleach plus nine parts water will take care of that.

    And remember, hand washing is the best defense against infection.

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