I had a code of ethics that I abided by with my last employer. I didn’t date the ladies that I worked with. Nothing good comes of it.
Since I wasn’t going to date them they were fair game for practical jokes.
There was nothing preventing me from placing Whoopi cushions on their seats or stationing a fart machine in close proximity.
The best victims were the ones who exuded poise, charm, gracefulness and a certain je ne sais quoi.
Imagine someone like a Kate Jackson or Jaclyn Smith falling victim to a real barn ripping thunder blast!
The best way to best them is to wait till they go to the ladies room. Then either have the machine pre-planted with duck tape on the back of a metal trash can in or adjacent to the facilities.
SOP dictates that the device be affixed to an empty metal trash can with duct tape or magnets. The trash can possesses a wide degree of harmonic tonal qualities. If empty the accessory has an amplifying effect and anyone within a 50 foot radius can hear it.
The victim, during the fusillade of tooting, thinks it’s someone in another stall. If another demure damsel is in the same facility, both of them think it’s the other.
At this juncture I must caution the reader on excercising the greatest discretion. If your victims are Sharon-Stone-psycho-bitches they will be at each other’s throats or brushing up on Sun Tzu tactics to destroy each other. So sit back with you popcorn.
By now the reader is asking, “well LongShot if they are going to be pissed at each other, why should I exercise discretion?”
Glad you asked. If either one of them ever finds out that you did it, you will never know peace and tranquillity. Older men who’ve done three tours in Vietnam wanted to back for a 4th after those hellions bared their fangs.
Don’t ask me how I know all this. Remember that they must never know you did it.
