Captain’s Log 5,649
It’s always something. I tell ya.
I was called down to the front of the museum on Friday because of a really bad smell. At first, the guys in the store thought it was the newly-hired guy who really really REALLY needed a shower. They were wrong.
The smell was caused by a huge load of human poo that had been dumped right next to the automatic door. Every time the door opened, it swung into the poo, scraping it and releasing more of the fine odor into the gift shop of the museum. Once they realized what was causing the smell, they all freaked out and called Momma Poolie to fix it.
I have never fixed huge loads of human poo being smacked by automatic doors before. I have taken care of huge poo dumps in the bushes – things that are handled easily with a shovel. This is why I get the big bucks. HA! A shovel wasn’t going to fix this one. The poo had ground itself into the poured pebble surfaces.
“Oh crap!” I said. How fitting.
I called the janitor and told him to come in early with his haz-mat suit. He is quite an expert when it comes to situations like this. Having a museum in the heart of the park where “urban campers” often do nasty things, we have seen it all. Dirty needles, condoms (new and used), lots of whiskey bottles, and yes…..poo.
So I did what any resourceful person would do. I ran back to the janitor’s closet and grabbed an industrial sized can of deodorizing spray. I went back into the store and proceeded to douse the poo with the spray. Direct hits and I also treated the atmosphere.
To no avail. The spray was cinnamon-scented. So now instead of smelling door-smacked poo, we got to sniff poo that smelled like snickerdoodles.
The janitor came and I ran away. Sometimes, that’s the best way to handle a situation, especially if it involves a feeble effort to take care of door-smacked poo.
We had our yearly picnic yesterday. I was the first one to arrive, so I tiptoed around the corner like a cat to see if there was any more poo by the door. Seeing none, I raised my coffee to the gods and started setting up. We had grand fun. Food, beer, stories, and gifts from the museum as a token of thanks. I never told them about the poo. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.