Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
I knew the moment I walked into the gaming room that the fun was over. The odor that greeted me was not just a smell; it was an airborne structural warning. A thick, insistent presence that suggested something prehistoric had recently perished inside a snug plastic shell. Little Timmy, all six-foot-two of him, was trying desperately to look inconspicuous. His eyes were glued to the TV screen as if focusing hard enough could make the problem vanish into the digital ether. The faint squish sound that accompanied his every subtle shift in position, betrayed his feeble attempt at denial.
“Timmy,” I announced, my voice sickly sweet despite the emergency, “I think we need to have a little chat about the structural integrity of your current diaper situation…” He just groaned dramatically, confirming what I already knew: I didn’t get paid enough for this environmental hazard mitigation, especially when the offending item was a premium, extra-capacity, nighttime Pampers that had clearly failed its crucial mission.
