To whomever shat on the floor in the first stall of the first floor men’s room at Northwinds Pointe, the building where I work…
If I find out who you are and it’s still there…
I’m rubbing your nose in it and then hitting you repeatedly in the back of the head not with a newspaper, but my fist.
This is not Kindergarten. You should have learned proper control of your bowels by now, and above all, you should have had the common courtesy to clean up after yourself.
That is all.
(I wish I was joking about this.)