Jacob worked private security. His current contract had him guarding a single dock door in the bottom of a strange structure that required a golf cart ride of a few miles to reach. Jacob was perfect for this assignment as he never asked questions and did what he was told. He didn’t really have any friends or family. He stayed in a small 1 bedroom apartment in Chicago, ate, slept, worked, and played video games while not working. Most of his 12 hour night shift consisted of sitting in a tiny room next to a gate and giving instructions to delivery drivers. In his mind it was the easiest money he ever made.

While not necessarily considered to be a health nut, Jacob did make a concerted effort to keep himself in some form of general good health. He walked and took public transportation wherever generally reasonable. He avoided junk and fast foods for the most part. On this day, for some inexplicable reason, he had an extreme craving for White Castles before going into work. He figured a little bit of junk was ok every now and then so he had a sack of 10 sliders before reporting to work.

Jacob all but forgot about the gastrointestinal effects of his dinner until he was rudely reminded by a sudden urge to empty his bowels at three in the morning… Just as a truck pulled through the tunnel and up to the gate. So, while furiously clenching his cheeks, he proceeded out of the room to give the typical instructions to the driver. “Pull in and you’ll see the dock door, there’s just enough room to turn around and back into the dock. Do not move the truck until you get the green light, and DO NOT leave your truck for any reason.”

Not giving the driver any time to talk he quickly opened the gate to let the truck through and penguin walked as fast as he could back to the door. In his haste to reach a toilet and sweet relief, he didn’t quite pull the security door open enough and as he tried to pass through the door slammed into his left shoulder pushing his right side into the door jamb. What Jacob failed to notice was that his right pocket got momentarily caught and the strike plate and tore a small piece of cloth off.

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Dave watched the security guard scampering away and silently cursed the man for his utter rudeness. He pulled into a large circular room that, as the guard had said had just enough room to turn the rig around and back up to the dock door. The room was made of what looked like very old and wet brick with a very low ceiling made of considerably newer stainless steel. He backed into the dock door and within a few minutes the light turned red and he could feel the tell tale shaking of a forklift unloading the trailer.

Most times during an unload he would lay in the sleeper bunk and either read or try to take a quick nap. On this particular morning though, as he lay down, his stomach rumbled quite vigorously with the signal of “Find a toilet fast or need a change of clothing”. So Dave got back in the drivers seat and looked out the window. He didn’t see a port-o-potty anywhere which is usually a staple at most shippers and receivers. What else does one do when told not to do something and then faced with a poop emergency? You do what you were told not to do. Dave exited the vehicle and walked toward the truck gate, noticing that the incredibly rude guard had not closed it.

Passing through the gate there was only one door next to the guard’s window. Pulling the on the handle expecting it to be locked the door opened quite easily although it was clearly a heavy security door. With the pressure in his hind quarters approaching prairie dog level he entered the door not noticing a small patch of cloth falling to the floor that had prevented to latch from engaging.