Internal Maintenance?

Sometimes I run into signs that just tickle the tinsel outta me. I know they have a utilitarian function and that the people who put them up are thinking linearly.

It's just that sometimes, between the time the sign's image traverses that vast empty space in my brain between the eyes and the Center of Warped Cognizance, it passes by the Tickle Box and sends me out into left field.

Take this sign, for example: "Internal Maintenance." It's mounted on a door next to the men's room at the South Point Resort and Casino in Las Vegas. Of course, I know, I know ... it probably means "janitor's room," but perhaps they wanted to boost someone's pride in their work.

But to me, it raised all kinds of questions: "Do they give enemas?" "Are they into brainwashing?" "Can they filter my blood?" "Is it possible for me to order a complete rewiring of my circulatory system?"

Y'know ... maintenance of my internals?