When you gotta go, you gotta go...
'Twas back many years ago, when I was around the age of 7. My parents' marriage was on the rocks, so dad was sleeping in the master bedroom, while mum occupied the guest room at the other end of the house. The way our house was laid out, the main bathroom was between my bedroom and the guest room, and there was a smaller bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom.

So one day, I'd come inside from riding my bike, and I was desperately needing to empty myself of the remains of my lunchtime Kool-Aid. I scrambled through the front door, through the living room, through my bedroom... and right into the closed bathroom door. Closed... and locked. Frantically I tried to get the door open, to which I received a rather curt "I'm IN here." from mum.

Panic began to set in. I couldn't use the bathroom, mum was in there. If I wet myself, or the carpet, I would be in big trouble. Going back outside to a shrub or something was not an option... Finally, a cartoonish lightbulb lit up over my head - THE PARENTS' BATHROOM!

At this point I feel I should pause and make note of the fact that my parents were fairly serious about keeping their personal business... well, personal. It was sort of an unspoken rule in the house that I was not allowed in there without permission. Being the well-behaved child I was, I saw no real need to break that unspoken rule.

Until today, that is. As I flew back through my bedroom, into the living room, through the kitchen, the laundry room - I could feel that the dam was about to explode, no holds barred, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was already unzipping as I flew through the parents' bedroom, threw the bathroom door open, and... stopped dead in front of my father, sitting on the loo, dirty mag in one hand, one-eyed monster in the other. My need to pee completely forgotten, I stood staring in complete and utter shock, as my father scowled at me and said, "I don't NEED your help." and shut the door in my face.

To this day, some quarter of a century later, I still can't remember where or even if I relieved my weary bladder.

Length, girth? Now I know who to thank for it.
(WillF http://www.flickr.com/photos/silverfischdotnet/, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 8:28, 3 replies)

"I don't NEED your help."
Haha, did he think you were insinuating that he did?!


Nicely written mate.
(TheColonel, Wed 3 Jun 2009, 10:48, closed)

Next time
just use the kitchen sink
(jackhiggs no longer a v!rgin as of..., Wed 3 Jun 2009, 11:14, closed)

Or failing that..
Pee in the garden like a civilised person..It helps composting..
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Thu 4 Jun 2009, 9:35, closed)