Arriving home yesterday evening, as I usually do, I felt the sudden urge to pee. What luck, I thought. Andhere I am just yards away from the back door. Suddenly it occurs to me: my bladder knows I’m home!
I doubly my pace to the door and fumble through my coat pocket for my keys.
There are no keys in my coat pocket.
Me: Bladder - please ignore the information sent by Brain. Hands are unable to locate my keys and it will be a few more minutes before you will be able to void yourself.
Bladder: I’m sorry, but vision central is still reporting that we are standing rigth outside the back door. Intelligence reports from yesterday that it took less than 30 seconds to get from back door to bathroom.
Me: But I can’t find the keys.
Bladder: Not my problem. Starting countdown to elimination: 10… 9… 8…
Me: How about if I tie the evacuation route into a knot, forcing a catastrophic backup? That makes it your problem.
Penis: Wha…?
Bladder: I’ve checked with Brain about this, and we think you’re bluffing.
Hand: reaches into pants…
Bladder: Okay okay! I’ll give you another 60 seconds. But that’s it.
Encrypted transmission to Penis: Sorry to scare you like that, but it was necessary. I’ll make it up to you later tonight.
Penis: Whew.
Me: Hands, how’s it going with the search for keys?
Hands: Well they’re not in your pocket, where else did you want us to check?
Me: Everywhere! We’ve only got 60 seconds before Bladder starts his countdown again. Hurry!
Hands: Roger will-co.
Bladder: How’s it going up there? 45 seconds left!
Me: Stop distracting me. And turn off that music. I can’t concentrate.
Legs: Let’s go slightly crossed and start dancing. That always helps.
Me: No it doesn’t help. It just makes me look foolish.
Brain: Hands are reporting they’ve found the keys in your shoulder bag. We should be all set now.
Bladder: I heard that. Resuming countdown. 10… 9… 8…
Vision Central: The back door key isn’t on this ring. Hands picked up the wrong keyring this morning.
Hands: Vision Central didn’t have a problem with that this morning.
Vision Central: It was dark.
Hands: Was not.
Vision Central: Was too.
Brain: ENOUGH! What keys are on this ring?
Vision Central: Front door and mailbox.
Brain: Legs: To the front door, on the double!
Bladder: Or the mailbox.
Me: Don’t even think about it. The mailman hates me enough as it is.
Legs: Approaching front door, ETA 12 seconds.
Hands: Wait! We’ve dropped the shoulder bag!
Brain: LEAVE HIM LEAVE HIM!
Hands: Front door in rage, keys inserted, lock released.
Brain: Hands, start working on the pants. There’s a button and a zipper that needs to be disabled before we reach the evacuation point. Can you handle that?
Hands: No sweat, done it a million times.
Legs: We’re in! ETA to bathroom: 5 seconds.
Vision Central: Watch out for the cat!
Cat: Meow!
Vision Central: Target in range.
Penis: Do we have a lock on the target yet? Last time I let go without target acquisition, Hands and Knees were busy cleaning for a half hour afterward.
Brain: Okay target has been acquired. FIRE!
Mouth: OOOOOOOOOOOaaaaaaaahhh!
Me: Whew, that was a close call. How long is this going to take?
Bladder: At least 12 more seconds. I’m pretty full.
Me: OK. Anyway Hands and Knees probably should get busy later, this place is a dump.
Colon Control: Did somebody say “dump”? Starting countdown: 10… 9… 8…
Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
