Futile

Last night

I dream of toilets and peeing. I dream of oceans and fountains, and peeing in them. I keep having a recurring dream where I wake up, pee, and then go back to bed and then wake up and pee again.

Finally, I wake up. And guess what? I have to pee like a motherfucker.

I gracefully stumble to the bathroom, wearing nothing but underwear and a pair of socks.

I lift the toilet seat and face the toilet.

A stream of urine like none the world has ever seen shoots into the toilet. It takes all of the strength in my right hand to avoid spraying urine around the room like a fire hose.

I close my eyes. Enjoy the feeling. Say "Ahhhh…" in satisfaction of the simple things in life.

Suddenly, without warning, both of my feet begin to slide on the cold bathroom floor. In opposite directions.

Placing my left hand against the wall in an effort to prevent myself from doing what's called the "Urination Split" does absolutely nothing, and my downward trend continues.

Meanwhile, the stream is not abating. Urine continues to flow at an ungodly rate. I fear that I shall soon become desiccated and shrivel into a piece of Avitable jerky.

My feet separate further. I am now more than a foot closer to the ground. Before long I will be urinating directly onto the bathroom rug.

I close my eyes and clench. Not my fist or my foot but my penis. From the inside. And the urine stops. But much like the little boy who stuck his finger in the dike, I couldn't hold back for too long.

Using both hands, I push myself upright.

Quickly, I sit down on the toilet and resume peeing. It sounds like Niagara Falls.

My wife walks in, sees me sitting down to pee, and shakes her head as she walks away to use the other bathroom. I hear her mutter something about "such a girl" and "no balls".

I finish, flush, wash, and slink ashamedly to bed.

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