The Laptop Urine Bandit

 The following is inspired by a true story:

           She had been on hold with tech support for an accumulated total of at least two hours, tossed between people in various departments, all of whom had thick yet impossible to place accents. Each one she told that yes, there were eighteen of them, and that yes, they had been urinated on, by a child, and that of course they had got wet, that’s what happens when something gets peed on. Each one had diplomatically responded, without a hint of shock or amusement in his voice, that he would put her on with his supervisor. When she was eventually put on with the head honcho of Apple tech support for the North American market, he simply cited the official warranty statement and told her good day. “Thank you,” she said, bitterly, as she hung up, got up from her desk, and walked into Principal Dawkins’ office.

            “Got any good news for me Debbie?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, throwing his arms up in the same shape referees do when the field goal is good. Dale Dawkins wore the same salmon-colored shirt with the same barely visible ketchup stain right below the breast pocket every day, and her eyes instantly gravitated to the slightly redder shade of salmon it made. She forced her gaze back to his pudgy red face.

            “Unfortunately not.”

            “Damn. What did they say?”

            “Well,” she said, “they transferred my call all the way up to the chief supervisor, and he said that it’s Apple policy not to restore any devices that have been urinated on, human or animal, because of the potential biological hazard.”

            “Isn't urine supposed to be sterile?” he barked.

            “I don’t know,” she said, “you’re the one running a school. I just work here.”

            “Well now we lost thirty-six kay in assets,” he said, leaning onto his desk. He thought about how he had to kiss the superintendent’s ass for months to get the funding. What was he thinking? Laptops, at an elementary school? What the hell do kids this age need computers for? Pissing on them, apparently.

            “I always knew that Jorgenson boy was trouble,” he said finally.

            “The juvenile justice department wants you to give a statement,” said Debbie, “to see if there was any previous behavior that indicated such an event would take place.” His case had been handed over to the county juvenile prosecutor.

            Dawkins laughed. “Previous behavior? There’s nothing that indicates a kid is going to up and pee on a cart of eighteen laptops. You know what you should tell them? Tell him the sign was that he was a little dumb shit kid, like all the rest of them!”

            She walked out of the office, scribbling “youthful indiscretion” on a pink sticky note.