I think someone had a very bad day

It wasn't me.

When you work someplace that deals at least peripherally with delivering pleasurable sensations to various and sundry, sometimes the other flotsam and jetsam will wash up somewhere on the premises. Often, it’s a discarded condom packet, abandoned girly picture, or inconvenient chunk of packaging shucked off hurriedly to get to the toy.

Sometimes, you find something a bit more nefarious. The other day, we had a visit from the crack fairy. Apparently, we’d been such a good little adult store that we were rewarded with a baggie-wrapped rock of joy on our doorstep. Yes indeed, a clump of illicit chemical bliss the size of a shooter marble left like a foundling at our threshold.

It was truly educational to see how readily it dissolved in a toilet bowl before getting flushed to join the endless flow of human waste.

I still get the giggles remembering it.