The Phantom Shitter. Every ship has one.

He dumps his load late at night, when only the watch is up and about, randomly throughout the ship: By the ladder to the engine room, in the passageway outside Radio Central, next to the door to Combat Information Center. He can strike anywhere. On one midwatch, he left his calling card outside the Captain's sea cabin. What a triumph.

Its a bitch if you're the one assigned the task of cleaning up the mess, but deep down you have to admire the guy. Its an enormous risk to take for such a minor, futile gesture, but it is reassuring to know someone crouched to the occasion. It is a blow for freedom, the ultimate thumbing of the nose to authority, a statement of the dignity of man.

Its a dirty job, but someone's got to do it.