Roland pees sitting down.

After a staff meeting we were all headed out to lunch, but I had to make a pit stop at the urinal. Mid-leak, I heard the bathroom door open and in waddled Roland.

He peeked his head over my arm to see my penis and said "Eeehee! I love Italian sausages." I wasn't offended or creeped out. By that time, his behavior had just become part of the routine.

Roland continued to the stall where I could see his pants drop to his ankles. I then heard a weak stream of water for about 15 seconds, followed by a flush and his immediate exit from the stall. He proceeded to walk over and peek at my penis again and said, "Eeehee! I love Italian sausages." The exact same joke as before, only in a dark and threatening manner this time.

He then went to the sink and ran the water for a few seconds, never even attempting to fake a hand-washing. He turned to me and offered the advice of "When it takes too long, I imagine a babbling brook."

He kept repeating "babbling brook" in a half-singing type of way out of the restroom. I could hear him continue all the way down the hall until he was out of earshot.

We went to lunch where he ordered Italian sausages that he ate suggestively, never once breaking eye contact the entire meal.

I was fired the next day.

Sam wears his mother's panties.

One day while finishing up the after show, Sam invited all of the interns to spend the night with him at his parents' house. He said we would order pizza and McDonald's and watch wrestling tapes all night.

Well it turns out I was the only one stupid enough to show up. Right away things are awkward. Sam became annoyed with me because I didn't acknowledge his autographed Ted DiBiase million dollar wrestling belt. He started getting snippy and passive aggressive. "Oh, those are replica Undertaker gloves from 1994 but you probably thought they were a Halloween costume." "Steve Austin passed out while in the sharpshooter instead of tapping out to Bret Hart, not that it means anything to you."

He threw a heavy plastic wrapper at me that turned out to be a WWE ice cream bar. I noticed the copyright date on the wrapper. 1998. He told me to eat it. I did.

I tried to ease the tension by suggesting that we start watching wrestling tapes. Sam scoffed at me for saying "wrestling" and said "Well do you mean WWE? WCW? NWA? AWA? TNA? What do you mean? Do you even actually like wrestling?" He cackled his cackle.

I explained to Sam that I was a wrestling fan back in the day, but as I matured it just wasn't my cup of tea anymore. I told him I would watch whatever he wanted and that hopefully it could get me back in to WWE. Sam picked a show with a "Good Housekeeping" match where a man physically assaulted a woman with household utensils for nearly 20 minutes.

He started getting really into it the way I've only seen children react. He laid down on the floor flat on his stomach with both hands under his chin propping up his head, his gaze never leaving the screen.

That's when I noticed. His shirt was riding up a little and I could see women's underwear poking out of his sweatpants. On the band I could see the name "Bobby" written in blue sharpie. Was Sam gay? That's okay, I guess. Not a big deal. I'm actually surprised he's in the closet. He has an openly gay brother, after all.

Then I heard a woman shrieking as if her toddler was run over by a truck and killed. "WHERE'S MY BABYYYYYYY? WHERE IS HEEEEEEEEEEE? SAMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!" Sam sat up like nothing was wrong and said "Mom is calling us for dinner."

We went downstairs where an over the hill woman met Sam with the biggest smile I've seen and countless hugs and kisses. Sam introduced her by saying, "This is my Mom Bobby."

So this was Bobby? What the hell? Sam is wearing his mother's underwear? Startled, I composed myself and mustered up a "Nice to meet you, Bobby."

Her face went cold. Her nose was trembling with rage and she wasn't blinking. "First of all, young man, to you I am Mrs. Roberts. Secondly, you are wearing shoes in my home. Get those filthy things off or I will cut them off. Were you raised by Latins?"

She instantly became cheery again and looked at Sam to ask where he wanted dinner. Sam said "I know I said pizza and McDonald's, but I could really use some of the good tendies. Let's go to FH Riley's!"

And off we went. When we arrived Sam pointed to an arbitrary table and told the waitress we were sent by the Philly crew. I didn't know what that meant but the waitress seemed annoyed.

Before the appetizers came, I had to use the restroom. My stomach had become upset due to the expired wrestling ice cream bar. I barely made it into the stall before nature took it's course.

After my first wipe, I heard the door open. There were several male voices. I couldn't count them, but I could tell they were all at least pushing 40. For some reason they were being loud and talking like frat kids. "Hey, who's in there?" They started slapping on the door to my stall.

"I'm just a customer. I'll be right out." They all laughed. "No, you're coming out now."

They started drumming on the door to the stall like "We Will Rock You" but they were chanting "Fa-ther Fa-ther Do-Ris."

At that point they kicked down the door and pulled me off of the toilet. One of them had a camera. They all took turns spanking my bare ass which had not been wiped. Then they got in a circle around me and started doing a weird jig where they all had their arms around each other.

After they were done, one of them looked at me and said "Sam told me you wanted to be in the inner circle." They all left for the kitchen.

I lied on the cold bathroom floor broken. I had never been violated like that in my life. I understand what it's like to be raped now. I cried, the side of my face on the dirty tiles. I looked towards the door. There was a rat. The rat looked at me, almost with sympathy.

I couldn't even clean myself up. I went back to the table visibly distressed. Sam told me he ordered for the table. His mother looked at me smiling and said, "Call me Bobby."