You know what it is like, guys, it’s 4 o’clock time to go home and those extra minutes it takes to go to the bathroom are an inconvenience you dont need. Let’s get out the friggin door there will be time enough for urine when you get home; 20 minutes is not long to wait.
Driving along minding your own not thinking about the broiling bladder. Sudden construction, as if by magic, it was not there yesterday, not a problem.
Text beeps, pick up cigs, milk budgie shampoo and a cat rectum reamer.
But the beloved one has attached a smiley face, you cannot deny her.
The light is flashing on low gas has been for as couple of months now; better stop. Favourite gas bar looms and joy oh bliss gas price is down to rock bottom prices; $10 a litre is a steal. Pulling in you want to double back; cars abound beeping and snarling at one another but we are trapped now.
With squeezing and teasing one is in and out gassed up and laden with cigs two tasks down in one. Stop for coffee despite a sense of urgency assailing the bladder. Could not use the gas bar crapper as there was a line up; fancy that just when you need a service the entire effing city is waiting in line in front of you.
Anyway time has elapsed you have the budgie shampoo and the milk you can now complete the last two thirds of your journey home. on average this should take you about fifteen minutes give or take.
Resisting to the urge to speed one starts to speed then slows. But now the teeth are floating there is a real need to cry here.
Once when I was a bout five and singing in the choir on stage in front of so many I thought; let out a little and ease the pressure. A little leads to an endless torrent and a proud Wicks is walking off stage leaving little pee puddles in his wake.
I wont be doing that today offering a silent prayer that I dont.
I turned on to my street and the pain gets worse its as if the penis knows where it lives and is shouting “Hurrah! Hurrah Wicks! step on it you wanker!”
On the drive now, grabbing your shit and purchases you rush to the door and fumble the keys there is a temper tantrum building here and oh my goodness the dogs are so happy to see you, fuss them a bit; then amid sobs and Klingon death screams you race to the crapper pulling down the zipper push open the door!
YippeekaiYay you scream but Mr. Cochran is so exited he is like a hose wildly out of control.
“Down Mr. Cochran!” you scream “Down you silly boy!”
In control at last and the body relieved you collapse into a quivering heap on the floor. That is where you stay until the goodly woman shows up with a heated blanket and comforting words and strong drink like milk in a used glass. “You just rest there while I make supper.”
Somehow it does not matter that you forgot the rectum reamer the world is quiet again the moon is in the seventh house and jupiter has aligned with mars; must be the age of Aquarius?