I must run! Make haste!

I wake up and quickly realize that I have only 42.56 seconds to make it to the potty or there will be hell to pay.

[Ominous background music here…the Exorcist theme sounds cool or maybe a Star Trek one…]

But, alas…

I waste 23.93 seconds putting on clothes and locking my truck.

I have 18.63 seconds left…

I dash to the truck stop, lurching and stumbling like Mr. Hyde on a foggy London street, grunting and growling.

I crash thru the front door of the store like Matt Dillon in Dodge City wondering where in the hell Festus is and why is Otis on my desk!

My body is gripping, squealing, clinging….

I burst into the bathroom like the DEA on meth, my eyes wild and…

“Oh, sorry ladies, my bad”…

I burst into the next bathroom, my eyes wild and frightened like a scared person I guess, my face pale, my bed head struggling for its own identity.

The potty God’s are kind, 2 stalls open for “business”

I fall into the first stall and to my horror see that the lid is down and still contains some urine and stool samples of the previous few occupants.

I curse the name of God and inbred swine. Cat like, I ninja roll into the next stall.


I made it! 3.24 seconds left!

It does not matter that my shorts and shirt are on backwards, or the fact that there is no toilet paper.

I made it and it’s not Monday.

I will rely on the Christian charity of strangers.

Funny though, no one’s been in here for the last 30 minutes and I have no socks.

True Story….


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