Muscleyarm’s WebNog

I was working in a institution doing the graveyard shift. Earlier that day, the nurse had told one of the clients that she was going to need a fecal sample from him. I guess he couldn’t comply with her request at that moment. Around ten at night, I was finishing up room checks and looking forward to eating donuts with the gals I worked with.

The elevator began to move. Out came a man from floor four.

“I’ve got the specimen you wanted,” he said.

“What specimen?” I asked, as I lifted the top off the shoe box. Inside, sat a shoe box-sized turd, the width and breadth of it, like a black and tan pound cake.

A couple of the gals screamed. I fought back tears of laughter.

“Thank you. I’ll make sure I get this to the nurse.” I said.

The man shuffled back into the elevator and the doors shut. On cue, all of the night staff burst out laughing.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” I asked.

“Just stick it in the nurse’s fridge,” my co-worker said.

So I stuck the turd-filled shoe box in the nurses fridge next to the insulin and her soda pop. It stayed there for two weeks.

Then one day it was gone.