The case of the capsized port-o-potty

On the evening of March 11, an aura of calm descended upon the quiet suburban neighborhood of Forest Hills. Birds chirped. Dogs barked. Cows in the dead-end pasture on Sussex Avenue banged their heads against the fence.

But as twilight fell, it became apparent to this reporter that something was amiss.

At 5 p.m. in the evening, a passerby, who wished to remain anonymous, walked past the empty lot at the intersection of Sussex and Piedmont. Currently, a house is under construction at the site. ‘Bud’ stopped for a moment to peruse the developments on the foundation of the new home. He later remarked that he was surprised they were building on the site, as it was a space he considered “hardly big enough for a garden shed.”

As Bud surveyed the scene, he noticed something unusual. A Portable Toilet, also known as a “port-o-potty,” erected by the building crew for the purposes of convenient relief, was lying forlornly on its side.

 

According to the Wikipedia Web site, “a portable toilet, usually known as a port-a-potty, is a modern, portable, self-contained outhouse manufactured of molded plastic in a variety of colors… Portable toilets are referred to colloquially or sold under such brands as port-a-john, port-o-let, sani-privy, port-a-san, porta-potty, tidy john, toi-toi, s***-shack, [and] porta-kybo.”

The port-o-potty whose demise was previously mentioned is beige in color, with dove white accents around the door and roof.

“It wasn’t the first time,” ‘Bud’ commented, explaining that the unfortunate potty had been sabotaged at least twice before. He said that on the morning of the first incident, he’d driven past the property, noticed the potty’s misfortune and seen the site foreman “furiously texting” on his cell phone, presumably to alert the authorities. “Man but he had some fast fingers.”

 

‘Bud’ also mentioned that after the first potty incident, someone from the builder’s organization made the bold move of tacking a “No Trespassing” sign in a prominent position on a tree by the road. ‘Bud’ pointed out that the lettering is neon orange, and hard to miss.

When asked if he’d noticed anyone lurking, Bud shook his head and appeared to ponder the question. Looking into the distance in the direction of the cows, he was heard musing, “Why do they do that?”

A second Forest Hills resident was seen walking his dog near the property. He stopped to speak with this reporter, pulling at his dachshund’s leash as he gazed at the calamity. Chuckling, he remarked, “Man, but you gotta admit that’s funny.”

When asked if he took joy in other people’s suffering, the man declined to comment.

A group of young men was later seen standing around across the street from the empty lot. Sporting hooded sweatshirts with college logos, they stood with their hands plunged deep into the pockets of their well-pressed blue jeans, poster children for virtue and innocence.

When asked if they had seen any suspicious persons on the lot, there were glances of mutual uncertainty, followed by a lot of shrugging. One of the boys remarked that it was getting late and they should probably head home. Then they were off, presumably to play Monopoly, help an elderly woman cross the street or indulge in a refreshing glass of ice cold milk.

A call from a long-time Forest Hills resident later in the evening shed light on the incident.

“I nearly hit a deer coming around the corner up there on Burns Drive,” said the caller. “There’s a whole family of deer live up there on that corner, just waitin’ for a car to come round the bend. You can see their eyes light up at night, like banshees.”

When asked if she suspected the deer to be the perpetrators of the crime, the caller declined to comment.

 

 

But this reporter has her own suspicions. Late in the evening, under the cloak of darkness, she drove through the neighborhood herself to engage in some amateur sleuthing. The aforementioned deer were “waitin,” just as the caller had predicted, on the aforementioned corner. Indeed, their eyes lit up, their skittish manner reminiscent of crack dealers, car hijackers and other blights upon society. If nothing else, revenge was in their eyes.