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It Wasn't Me

Updated: Jul 23, 2023

Mid piss

I notice

That the toilet is clogged.


I shake my little pecker

And try to flush it anyway.


It floods up to the edge,

And

I panic,

And

Weigh my options.


I decide that I don’t want to go up

To the gorgeous barista,

And tell her that the toilet is clogged,

Because I am afraid that

She’ll think that it was me that clogged it.


I don’t want her thinking that I took a giant shit in there.


So I grab the plunger

And start violating the toilet.


And I am really pounding that porcelain chair,

When someone knocks on the door

And scares the shit out of me.

(No pun intended here.)


I look over my shoulder and say,


“Just a second!”


But, because I stopped paying attention for a moment,

And kept plunging away,

piss-water lept from the bowl,

And found my clothes.


“God Damnit!”


I try to dry myself off with a paper towel,

But there is piss all over me.


I go back to pounding the toilet with the plunger.


The water starts to go down.


I wipe the sweat off of my forehead,

And look down at my pants and shoes.


They were still soaked through.


I take a breath, and try to make it to my seat without being seen, or smelled.


But, as soon as I open the door

A cute little lady,

Who I know

Very minimally—Except for one long conversation here at this same coffee shop a few months ago,

And another awkward encounter at her place—

Is leaning against the wall,

Right outside the bathroom.


I freeze mid step.


“Hey.” I say.


“Hey.” She says back.


“The toilet was clogged, but it wasn’t me! I didn’t shit in there! I just took a piss! But then I tried to unclog it . . . and I got piss all over myself.” I pointed to my pants.


She took a step back from me and said,


“Er, alright.”


“It’s good to see you!”


“Yeah, you too.”


I walked away.


She walked into the bathroom.



-C.H. 7.18.23

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