Urine Trouble If You Work Here

Much of the legitimate work I do for Mr. Pabulum takes place in his offices at a major movie studio. After the terrorist attacks of 9/11/01, we got word from the Feeb that, now that a major symbol of the nation's financial imperialism had been destroyed, the probable next target would be a major symbol of the nation's cultural imperialism.

Which means us. Hollyweird. Using tits and explosions to seduce the world's youth away from the path of righteousness.

So they built big walls and concrete car-bomb shunters, and for a while the $7/hour security guards used to look under our cars with gigantic versions of those mirrors that dentists use to look at the back of your teeth.

Anyway, that's not the point of the bad urine pun in the title of this post. Just giving you some backstory.

Where was I? Oh.

To get to my car at the end of yet another day manufacturing entertaining pap for the indiscriminate audiences of the world, I have to go down a small stairwell in the back corner of the parking garage.

And there are puddles of dried and drying urine in there.

Now, I'm no shrinking violet with an overactive nose and a strict sense of cleanliness. I used to live in a fraternity house. I used to work in a mortuary. Hell, I've been to Venice. So it's not the smell to which I object.

It's the safety issue that concerns me.

I imagine the stairwell in question has become a public urinal for some homeless people in the vicinity of the studio. That's cool - when you gotta get rid of some Mad Dog 20/20, you gotta get rid of some Mad Dog 20/20. Better there than in front of some impressionable young crack whore turning tricks in an alley across the way.

But if homeless people (drunk on cheap booze, bladders full of acrid piss) can make their way onto the studio lot, what's to stop the fanatics (drunk on self-righteous indignation, suitcases full of C4) from doing the same?

I only hope they don't bump into the bums when they come. Piss and bombs shouldn't mix.