The details of my life are quite inconsequential… very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.

  • 3 Posts
  • 30 Comments
Joined 1 year ago
Cake day: June 29th, 2023
  • zanyllama52@infosec.pubtoLemmy Shitpost@lemmy.world•Toot tootEnglish
    5·
    4 months ago

    Well, I would love it if my tightly wound boss would pull something like this. Way out of character.

    As a college student, I walked into the multi-use bathroom, and proceeded to a urinal. Strange, rhythmic, wet sounds were coming from the lone stall in use. I thought, “Okay, what the hell is this?” and tried to wrap things up quick, in case things got weird. Too late. I then hear another strange sound from the stall, something like crinkling wax paper. None of this made sense to my young mind. Then I hear a wet “plop” from the stall, and more crinkling wax paper noises. I quickly finish up, and turn to leave. On the floor of the stall I can see a partially eaten Subway sandwich. Unbelievable

    This base human then picks up the sandwich, and continues eating.

    To this day, I do not eat Subway.