Johnson Closure ll

 

Your Hose is too short

    Your Pump is too weak

       Stand closer to the seat dude

         Or you'll Piss on Your Feet

The words scrawled on the wall above the urinal caused me to laugh out loud. It was a generous and boisterous laugh. I tried to stifle it, but the damage had been done. I could feel the eyes of others turning my way. Interrupting the solitude and false perception of being alone in a men's bathroom was an unspoken taboo. These guys were concentrating and now I just broke the mood. Way to go asshole. Laughing out loud in a public toilet can bring the wrong kind of attention. 

Totally embarrassed now, I attempted a hasty zip up. Shit! Seems I didn't pack it all in and now I had my business pinched hard in the zipper. I began to double over like my butt was trying to run away from the pain. I wanted to scream. It hurt, oh so bad. I knew if I screamed right on the heels of the belly laugh, someone might beat on me. I managed to stifle myself.

A decision needed to be made quickly.  I was drawing attention standing there with my hands holding my naughty bits well past what would considered an acceptable time frame. I knew it was going to hurt more when I unzipped that which had been stupidly zipped up between those evil meshing metal teeth. Holding back the tears and the screams of agony, I yanked hard and yes,...............It hurt even worse going down than it did going up. I tried to not make a sound, but a weak little girl squeal escaped without permission.  

I tried to regain my composure while repackaging the wounded package. I thought I was cool as I stiff legged it over to the sink to wash up. All I could think about was the pain while frantically waving my hand under the stupid sensor to get some flippin water going. Nothing. No water. 

I looked up in the mirror over the sink. My face was beet red and a vein on my forehead was throbbing hard enough I thought it might blow. Again I began frantic hand waving trying to get some water to flow when a hand reached over and hit the top of the faucet head.

"Bub, you have to hit it. Waving at it ain't gonna cut it." 

I looked over at a huge guy standing two sinks over. The look on his face told me I was not acting cool. He was doing his best not to laugh. 

I muttered, “Thanks”, and focused on washing my hands.  I found the door and left. The sounds of several male voices laughing followed me out into the daylight.  I can remember thinking, “You just don't follow up a belly laugh with a scream and leave a men’s toilet with your dignity intact.”

 I returned to the car and the journey with wounded pride and wounded body. My darling wife asked me what was wrong. "Nothing", I said, preferring to not have more salt poured on my wounds.

This happened to me on one of my trips south some years ago. The tale speaks for itself.

Later Gator ...........................................................

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Originally written in 2009.  I re-worked a few corners, tweaked this or that and well, here it is, same ole shit in a brand new almost fresh package. ................ Enjoy