Editor-in-chief Bratton has its own bathroom in his office. But the editor-in-chief now wants to be in the public bathroom. Because when he opened the bathroom door, an indescribable smell began to pollute his office.

The ceiling, walls, and floors of the bathroom are all yellow and slimy. The yellowish liquid flows into the office carpet the moment the door is opened, as if moistening the arid earth.

It's over, and this expensive handmade carpet can only be thrown in the garbage dump.

The Editor-in-Chief lifted his pants and watched sadly as the slimy slimy object fell down his trouser legs. Every time a lump falls, it makes a very textured chirp.

There were also slimy objects that would slide down the editor-in-chief's thighs, moisturizing his thick leg hair. He's old, has a big belly, and wears fat pants. As you can imagine, the crotch of these pants is very large, making them a good container.

Now the container is full of goodies from the fertile fields.

Editor-in-Chief Bratton had a very tough pace, just too hard. Every step he takes leaves deep footprints and water trails on the ground.

Looking back at the toilet, it was even more sad and indignant. The hole that looked like an abyss of sin was now full of dung and full.

But the editor-in-chief must take steps and must leave. With tears in his eyes and sadness, he lifted his pants. The moment the belt was fastened, the sticky object was squeezed and bubbled out.

Cold, damp, cold, terrifying aura invaded instantly. This feeling will echo in Bratton's mind for the rest of his life, leaving him with tears of sorrow. In the end, he decided not to wear these pants because it was too unseemly.

His Excellency the Editor-in-Chief washed his hands in the bathroom with a full stomach of grief. He tried to clean himself up, but to no avail. He tried to press the toilet bowl again, but the amount of feces in the toilet pit just wouldn't flush down.

Desperate!

It's Christmas Eve.

Knowing this, the editor-in-chief of Bratton definitely asked for leave to spend a warm night with his family and children, so why be a-stirring stick in the office? But now there is no turning back, and it is difficult to look directly.

"Hey, building management? I'm Bratton from the Sixteenth Floor News Department. Yes, that's me. I had a problem with the toilet in my bathroom and needed a cleaner. Wait, I'm afraid one is not enough, send a few more.

Besides, do you have oversized pants or clothes there? I would be grateful if it could be provided. And don't forget the air cleaner. You guessed it, the problem is a bit bad. Very bad! ”

Calling the management office, the editor-in-chief of Bratton stood pitifully at his desk. He had two bare legs, only pants, and his upper clothes were off.

I don't want to stand at this station, and the state of not being able to sit is really torturous.

With the help of the reflection of the glass windows in the office, you can see the embarrassed appearance of Bratton. He even found that there were a lot of yellow things stuck to his hair, and he suddenly hated to jump off the roof of the headquarters building.

"Why does this toilet spray? How does it squirt? What is the reason for this? ”

Your Excellency the Editor-in-Chief is angry and anxious, but there is no way to vent. He can't even move, and when he does, he releases a stench. He pondered three classical philosophical questions, but to no avail.

After waiting for a long time, the fat black aunt knocked on the editor-in-chief's office with cleaning tools—the newspaper office was a large space, with low-level staff working in an open square, and the editor-in-chief having a private office in the corner of the floor.

The black aunt knocked outside the editor-in-chief's office for a long time, and the crack in the door only opened a little. She saw a balding middle-aged face from behind the door, and an indescribably strong smell came to her face.

"Oh...... God!" The black aunt is really 'discolored', and her fat face is shaking. She covered her nose and shouted, "Sir, what did you do in the office?" ”

......The editor-in-chief didn't want too many people to know what happened to him, so he pleaded carefully, earnestly, and in a low-key manner, "Madam, I have a special situation here. I hope you'll see it later. ”

"Don't worry." The black aunt patted her chest, took a few steps back and said, "I have worked in this building for more than ten years, and I have seen all kinds of scenes. Your bathroom toilet is broken, right? I can handle this. ”

There are still a lot of staff in the big office who are working overtime, and they all come back when they hear the conversation. Editor-in-chief Bratton could only open the door a little bit and quickly pull the black aunt inside.

But less than three seconds after the black aunt entered the door, she quickly broke free of Bratton's hand, and the moment before the door closed, she turned around in a panic and fled, and shouted desperately:

"O God, forgive this sinner. The office stinks like a. I have worked in the newspaper for more than ten years, and it is the first time I have experienced the stink of this super invincible Wakanda! ”

With such a voice, the editor-in-chief of Bratton felt that he could die. He used to be a respected, noble, and dignified editor-in-chief of the New York Times. But soon he'll have a nickname, and it's definitely not related to some kind of human excrement.

The black aunt opened her mouth and quickly called the newspaper security guard and night shift manager. It sounded as if the editor-in-chief Bratton had in his office, and the entire newspaper building knew about it.

The security guards came wearing gas masks, and evacuated all unrelated staff on the same floor in advance. They asked Bratton to come out of the office and soon saw the pained editor-in-chief......

Bratton was pantsless, shirtless, with on his head, and an extremely primitive air - several security guards were stunned by the scene. Even when they wore gas masks, they could still feel the lingering smell drilling into their noses.

"Sir, what happened?"

"The toilet is spraying."

"What?"

"Literally, the toilet is spraying. I was in the bathroom, sitting on the damn toilet, and then I heard a strange noise, like horror coming from the depths of the ocean.

It cooed, and I wondered. But alas, I was not vigilant. But I felt something was wrong, it had already slammed and squirted.

What kind of eyes are you looking at? Thought I liked that? I am the victim. It must have been a dereliction of duty on your part that caused me to go through such an embarrassing situation.

You're smiling, aren't you? You must want to laugh, don't you? You bastards, I curse you to go through the toilet squirting tragedy too. I want you to feel the impact of the chrysanthemum being exploded. Wait, it's not ......."

The editor-in-chief's emotions exploded, and in the face of the strange expressions of the newspaper security and management personnel, he couldn't control his scolding.

The others quickly understood what was going on, and instead sympathized with the hapless editor-in-chief, and even wanted to come up to him and give him a hug and a few words of comfort

Wait a minute......

Hugs and comforts are spared, not even approaches.

Bratton scolded as he took a few steps forward. But with each step he took, the others took two steps back, and begged the editor-in-chief loudly to calm down.

This and urine is too terrible, and it is more courageous than Guan Gong riding a red rabbit horse!

And at this moment, the ceiling of the office was ringing again, as if something was surging rapidly in the pipe.

Bratton immediately exclaimed excitedly, "Listen, that's the voice." It's coming, it's coming again, it's coming in a stronger way. Wait and see. ”

Everyone in the big office changed color when they heard this, and they all turned around and ran away.

Then there was a bang, as if some stuck piston had been rushed away.

An even stronger stream of erupted from the bathroom in Bratton's editor-in-chief's office. It burst open the bathroom door, pierced the ceiling of the office, and passed the blinds......

The yellow, the white, the black, the indescribable, the indescribable, the indescribable, the indescribable, It's drenched in Bratton again, and the editor-in-chief is full of heads!

It's over, it's all over the game!

This Christmas Eve, don't be safe for everyone.

(The official account asks for attention and clicks)