Pee Story

You'd do it for Randolph Scott

I go into the bathroom to urinate. It's me and the boy. Middle of the day, fuckin' Tuesday. The boy is four years old. Old enough to roam freely while I take a piss. Me peeing takes about a minute. Now, that's a stressful minute, because the boy is not trustworthy. He's a backstabber, and he lies. Well. It's the Sicillian in him that makes him this way.

As is my custom, I made the boy aware that I'd be going to the bathroom as I walked there, and I encouraged him to join me. He said he would, but didn't show up. There was extra time. I went slow, because the boy said he would come but hadn't, and the possibilities that open up in that situation are...Considerable.

But it was too late to go after him. At some point, the body commits fully to micturation and it's full-go. To stop suddenly after commiting, you take your life in your hands. I was at that point, pissing smoothly...A Strong, proud stream. Honorable. But then the boy still hadn't come, and he'd been silent for a bit. As a parent who spends a great deal of time with a mistrustful, deceptive child, you learn, as a mother Lion probably learns, the sounds of the jungle. Certain combinations of sounds mean certain things. This particular combination: the sound of only urine hitting toilet water, and nothing else - in my jungle that's the drums stopping for a few seconds before the savages spring from the treeline. I cursed my still draining bladder, and cursed the gods for this silly untimely pee, and continued to curse them until the boy spoke up. He was directly behind me, and he said:

Daddy I have to go to the bathroom and pee too!

and as he said the words "pee too", he started peeing on my shoes, into my socks. A strong stream. Honorable. And we stood there voiding together like two links in a daisy chain of pee, I into the toilet, and he onto my fucking feet. He finished just when I did, zipped up and left. As I took off my shoes, my socks, laundry, shower, whatever, I heard another noise from his room across the hall. I was soaked in urine, though, so I had to clean up to avoid diaper-rash. After that whole thing I heard the weird noise again and went to investigate. The boy was standing there, still holding the red sharpie he'd just used to graffiti a giant stick figure onto his wall. He told me that his sister did it, but - like I said: kid's a liar.