***THIS WEEK'S FRIDAY FIVE WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW***

And then....

Dungflinger struck again. I was busy in my office, and Ho showed up at my door. She was going to the funeral and was all dressed up. She apologetically asked if I could help with Dungflinger so that she wouldn't have to go to church smelling of shit. For some reason, everyone calls on her to clean up the messes, and it's just wrong. I was due, she's done her time, it was my turn. No problem. So I told her to stop apologizing, and not to worry about it.

I went to the room, the stench greeting me half way down the hall. The clinician assigned to that room was kind of hovering around at the door, like she didn't know what to do. It was early, and since it's the first week of summer school, there was new staff in there, not familiar with this particular group of students. So, I grabbed a pair of gloves and tossed a pair to her. As she put them on, I asked her if she wanted a gown.

"YES I WANT A GOWN!"

Pussy. I tossed her a gown, helped her put it on and tied it on her. Then we tried to get Dungflinger up (she was lying on a mat, refusing to get up but mostly toying with us and saying "eeeewwwwwwwwww."). Yeah. What an astute vocalization. Normally by this time she'd have her hands down her pants and would be flinging. But she was wearing short overalls, so access was limited.

As soon as we finally got her to stand up, the clinician gasps, covers her mouth and nose with one hand and retches loudly.

And as much as I hate poop, I can't handle puke. So, I kind of irritatedly tell her to forget it, I'll take her. So we go down the hallway to the bathroom. Every time we passed a classroom a head would pop out and make comment about the smell. Yeah yeah yeah, tell me about it.

Now, I shouldn't be alone with this little lady, no one should, since she has bitten an ear off of Ho during one of her dungfest cleanups. But I'd rather go it alone than have some ninny puking next to me. So, I guide her through the process and manage to get her undressed, get the pull-up off of her and wipe her up and wash her off while at the same time keeping her from getting her hands in it and also not letting her take a bite out of me. I got all the poopy clothes and wipes and gloves safely tied up in a bag, and was getting her dressed when another staff came in to help. We got her to wash her hands and walk back to the classroom and I went to the dumpster to dispose of the mess.

Actually, I was feeling quite pleased with myself. It's quite an accomplishment. But in this job, one never can rest on one's laurels.

About an hour later I heard a frantic call for my name, and it became apparent that when it came to poop, I was the one to call. Dungflinger was again lying on her mat, taunting me with her smiles. The pussy clinician was cowering, hoping I wouldn't ask her to help, and the other two staff in the room were as far away as possible. I donned a pair of gloves and tried to get her to stand up. I used sign language, I used short verbal phrases, I used pictures. Finally I tugged. So, I begin lightly tugging on her right elbow and coaxing her to get up. After about a minute, I move her blanket and to my horror I see that her left hand is down inside of the overalls. DAMMIT!

I kept ahold of her right hand my right gloved hand and pulled her left hand out with my left. Out comes a tightly clenched fist full of steaming fecal sludge. What do my supportive co-workers do? Shriek and run out of the room. So there I am, bent over with both hands trying to contain flingage, the putrid offense raping my nostrils. I shout out that I need some paper towels, and a roll got tossed to me from the door.

I managed to dig out most of the solid bits with paper towel and somehow managed, without letting her hands go, to extract enough ass-wipes from a box, to remove most of the fudgy slime. Finally someone with half of a gut came to help me get her into the bathroom. We left a trail of turdlettes down the hall as she lightly skipped along singing "eeewwwww ewwwwww." I'm not sure how many pair of gloves we used to get her out of the clothes, the pullup and cleaned off. We even had to wash the bottoms of her feet as she apparently stepped in one of hallway droppings.

I haven't washed my hands so many times in a single day since...ever. I washed, I scrubbed, I used hand sanitizer, moisturizer, perfume, room deodorant, body splash and more soap. Nothing removed the smell! All I wanted to do was get the day over with so I could go home. I just needed to de-funkify myself!

Of course, "Little Foul-Mouth," another one our little darlings, decided at bus time to kick the shit out of everyone and slapped me in the tit. So we were involved with a physical management until she calmed down, and I had to smile to myself a little when she screamed at me, "You stupid shit-smelling bitch, you STINK!" Yeah. I did.

I got home and took a nice long hot shower, washed my hair twice and soaped up with Orange Body Wash and eradicated every bad smell from me. I feel so much better now.

I probably should think about getting those hepatitis shots, huh?

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