Though he acted like the teasing didn't matter, when roll call and the daily briefing was over and the deputies went about their morning assignments, Willie's face was beet red and he felt nauseated as a thin sheen of sweat covered his skin. He remained in his chair until he was the last officer in the room then slammed his flabby fist down on the table.
Papers and half empty plastic cups fell to the floor as he stood up.
Shuddering in barely contained fury, he kicked his chair back. It crashed against a stack of neighborhood watch posters which slid over the floor in all directions.
In his mind he kept hearing the stupid things his ‘genius’ co-workers had said before roll call. Deputy Allen, with his shit eating grin, said, “Say, Willie, I think my wife's been cheating on me. Could you try some of her biscuits and gravy and tell me if you taste anything- you know, spermy about them?”
It was a regular amateur night at the comedy club that morning. Everybody that heard of his little slip of the tongue in the hall with Bo just had to throw their own bullshit jokes into the mix.
Willie felt his stomach grumbling and thought a visit to the bathroom might be in order, and soon. He stomped down the hall staring at the floor as he remembered that bastard Sanchez's nasally voice in his head again saying, “Willie don't let these guys get you upset.”
He'd sounded so sympathetic that Willie looked up just in time for the slam. “Hell, I know a lot of guys that would love to meet a big chubby bastard like you that swallows. Most faggots spit it out, but you must truly savor the flavor judging from the stains on your shirt.”
Willie kicked the bathroom door open and stormed inside. Two younger deputies laughed and walked out, leaving him alone. He went to the urinal and saw some 'genius' had already thumb-tacked a note card to the wall where anyone could see. It read: Pee here, see Willie Dunn for anything extra.
God damn you, Bo! You sorry sack of shit, I ought to... Willie's ability to think clearly had abandoned him. ”Fuck!” He shouted, ripping the note card off the wall crumpling it into a ball before throwing it to the floor.
He went into the toilet stall and locked the door behind him. As he sat and did his business he contemplated revenge. Unfortunately, Willie had never been gifted with an overabundance of imagination. He briefly semi-seriously contemplated a homicidal rampage for a few minutes then realized that it would be a lot of work (plus it would probably hurt when they most likely would shoot him down.)
Fifteen minutes later, he finished his business and was about to flush the commode when inspiration finally struck. A mischievous twinkle came to his eyes. For Willie, it was a veritable brainstorm of creativity as he giggled and nodded his head.
After stifling giggles with great difficulty, he unrolled the toilet paper cylinder and filled the toilet bowl until the cardboard tube was all that was left. He flushed the commode and watched in giddy anticipation as it began to overflow and the water spread out over the floor tiles. As the water crept toward his shoes, Deputy Willie Dunn had a sudden revelation that being in there when it was discovered might not be a good idea and quickly left the bathroom. He climbed the staircase, breathing heavily, and grinned hugely as he approached the candy machine. Sorting through a handful of change he heard from downstairs, “Who the fuck did this?”
The voice was unmistakably that of Earl, the grumpy old janitor.
Willie smiled more broadly as he tore the wrapper off his candy bar and walked serenely down the hallway as a rich tapestry of furious expletives drifted up from down below.