I walked into the men’s public bathroom,
to relieve an urge I could not abate.
I strode urgently towards a urinal,
unzipping, to urinate.
The faint smell of cleaner was in the air,
Crumpled paper towels lay on the floor.
An unfortunate sniff indicated the odor
coming from the man in the stall next-door.
With my zipper undone and my fly wide open
I released my bladder’s tight grip.
Another crisis avoided, I thought to myself
as I felt my pants begin to slip.
My favorite jeans, loose and comfy,
quickly fell to a pile on the floor.
I hurriedly tried to finish my business,
while keeping an eye on the door.
The flow from my bladder was endless it seemed,
and although it seems needless to say,
I was eternally grateful that I had decided
to not go commando that day.
The stream had finally stopped
after a few moments that felt eternal.
I quickly tucked myself back in
and stepped away from the urinal.
I hurriedly picked up my pants,
pulling them up to my waist.
I grabbed my belt and cinched it tight,
Almost forgetting to zip up in my haste.
I was zipped and buckled and buttoned up,
my bottom half was exposed no more.
I began to wash up at the sink
when another patron opened the door.
I nodded a brief “hello” to him
as he headed towards a stall,
and with a heavy sigh of relief, thought
Damn, that was a close call.
I won't be posting tomorrow, due to the fact that it is Thanksgiving and all. I'm setting out to not over-eat this year, but I'm pretty sure that the moment I smell all the glorious, wonderful food cooking, I'll throw that resolution out the window.
I hope everyone has a happy and safe holiday!