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A Wee Little Incident

There is a reason why people don’t take cows into their house as pets. They would piss and poo all over the floor. But who would guess you’d run the same risk with your toddler’s cuddly toy cow?

The other day, it was a bit hectic when we all came home. I was busy in the kitchen making the evening meal. Mrs.B was on the telephone with her sister. Meanwhile, Wolf was happily playing along with his little friends: Bear and Horse and Booh. They were the children and his was the parent, teaching them to use the potty. An innocent game, you know how children imitate their parents.

But then, someone who shall remain nameless and who was too busy calling with her sister had forgotten to empty the potty after Wolf had done a wee. So when Booh went on the potty, Booh’s bottom became wet. And when Wolf noticed that his little friend had dripped all over the floor and living room table, he decided to clean it up himself.

He is such a clean little boy, I don’t know whom he gets it from.

So he used Booh’s pee-soaked bum to rub it all over the living room floor and table. Meanwhile, Mrs.B who was still talking on the phone just looked at her son play and didn’t notice that something was wrong.

It was only when I came in to set the table that I noticed that something was very wrong. It was as if someone had mopped the floor. Then I realized that Mrs.B hadn’t mopped the floor. Then I noticed the potty and the wet trail leading from it. And then Wolf showed me Booh and I could feel that Booh’s bottom was very very wet and very very smelly.

So in the end, Booh went into the washing machine, while Wolf’s negligent mother mopped the floor and cleaned the table - with water and cleaning agent.

The 11.16 Pee


When I was young – way before I became a 34-year old fart – I loathed people that lead a completely unoriginal, repetitive and predictable life. You know, dragging yourself to the same office every day, doing the same repetitive job tightening nuts and bolts or dragging documents from one stack of paper to the other. I vowed this would never happen to me, I would lead a rich and varied life and become the very epitome of originality.

Despite having a career that involves occasional travelling to strange and exotic places, I must confess that I spend the very large majority of my time dragging documents from one stack to the other. I too have become a slave of reports, memo’s, proposals, budgets and the like. And when I finally do escape from the office, my trips very rarely – if ever – include searching for hidden treasures, fighting pirates, flying on dragons, discovering strange worlds where time stood still, kissing beautiful princesses and savagely taking away their virginity while they’re chained to the wall of a dark dungeon with a rubber ball stuffed in their mouth.

As if to rub the monotonous predictability in to the point where I get blisters, my bodily functions have started to take on a very strict routine. More precisely, this has developed into a clockwork-like urge to pee at the exact time of 11.16 PM. Not 11.13 or 11.18, but exactly one minute past quarter past eleven in the morning. You can set your watch to that. A minute earlier, and I’m happily working along without a worry on my mind. On minute later, my bladder threatens to explode under the enormous pressure my kidneys start to generate in a matter of seconds. And don’t think I can postpone it for a minute; a huge tidal wave would flood the city if I didn’t make it to the toilet within the next thirty seconds or so.

More annoyingly, several of my colleagues in the building seem to have a similar problem, although it seems their bladders are less accurate than mine. So every time it’s a race upstairs to the toilet in the hope that this time, they’re late and I get to occupy the toilet before someone else does. This race does add a bit of suspense to my daily routine but…

…I’m sorry; we’ll have to continue another time. Writing this has set some things in motion. I have to pee.

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