Every day he had to deal with the same thing.

Every day he had to deal with the same thing. The same job, the same home, the same words. He felt like he was just repeating the same day. But that'd be ridiculous...right?

So he changed things up. Sure, he had some alien DNA and a few upgrades, but he still self-identified as human, so he decided to use the humans-only restroom at work for the first

time. The human restroom was strange. His half-human and half-alien instincts kicked in. His human self told him to urinate, while the alien self told him to attack the urinal. He

did both at once. As he smashed & squirted, the heady fumes of the urinal cake transmogrified him from his human to his alien anemone form. He burst thru the roof of the building.

The alien anemone's tentacles crushed the structure. The giant anemone roved the streets of New York raiding port-a-poties for their cache of urinal cake & growing with each meal.

The urinal cakes were custom baked by one of France's most celebrated boulangers & imported to NY. The city's revamped port-a-poties were further equipped with in-house DVD player,

which, although very popular with the end users, proved an unsustainable business model for the venue operators as their customers spent more time doing their business when Jumanji

Was busy trying to do something meaningful instead of mindless culture wars. Forget political correctness, Dr. Sjhdghgfrki said to me. It is useless to people like us. We at least

So I made a peace-sign with my dirty, hippie hand and held it silently at him as I marched out of his office. He called me every name in the book, but at least his chapter was over