An actual hand written sign in a dark, dark, dark doorway on New York's Lower East Side (Second Avenue, west side of the street between Fist and Second Streets).

It was a piss infested doorway to be sure; on a hot day if the wind was blowing the right way you could smell it from twenty feet or so away. Most folks - myself included - would rather cross the street than pass within sniffing distance of it. It was that bad.

I always maintained it was bum-piss, since everyone knows that bum-piss is the worst.

My sensible girlfriend, ever quick to correct me, insisted it was from the alcohol charged frat boys who had been out raising hell in our neighborhood before heading back home to Mommy and Daddys place on the Upper East Side. Her idea did make more sense than mine, but I wasn't convinced.

Anyway, the fucking doorway fucking STUNK!

I used to ridicule the sign, noting that anyone who would piss on someone elses home couldn't read at best, and at worst just didn't give a shit.

But I was wrong!

In about one month the stench was gone! Maybe it was a miracle, maybe it was the rigorous and daily application of Clorox, I wasn't sure!

My girlfriend smugly insisted that everyone had a sense of social responsibilty; that nobody was beyond hope. There was a chance for ANYONE!

I thought it had more to do with the rowdy Hells Angel (Luis! A great guy and 'howa doing dude?' if you're reading this!) building management hired to kick the living shit out of anyone pissing on tha door at night.

Just my opinion, of course.

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