Senseful ramblings of an incoherent nature from a delusional schizophrenic (or my views on current events)

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Niagara Pee

Whilst I was in middle school I visited the administration offices a number of times for a variety of reasons. Yes, I did go to the principles office for fighting a couple of times (I was in middle school, cut me a break, I didnt realize my temper management abilities until high school), and there was that time when I balled up an entire Tasty Cake brownie in the middle of a lunchtime speech by the assistant principle and flung it up to the ceiling where it got stuck - after lunch I had to climb a ladder and pick it off, plus I got a weeks worth of detentions, oops. Actually, there was another time during a different lunchtime speech when I stood up and pretended to throw something at my friend, but alas, the assistant principle though I did throw something, so down I went to the principles office again. I guess I was somewhat of a lunch-time terrorist, but I digress... The main draw of the office, at least for me, was the nurse’s station. Now I am not about to say that I enjoyed going to the nurse, but what better excuse is there to get out of a class that you dont want to attend?

Although the administration office was constantly buzzing like a bee hive there was one constant, the Queen Bee if you will. She was not a principle, or even an assistant principle for that matter, but as soon as you went into the office you could not miss her. She was (and perhaps still is) an amazon of a woman, easily standing at 6 foot 2, and she looked like the mom from the Wonder Years, complete with rind stone glasses. In my memory she wears a poodle dress pulled up above her waist, but I doubt she actually did, at least not in the early 90s when I was in middle school. She had blonde hair, shoulder length, parted in the middle and curled out at the bottom. She was not easy on the eyes, in fact she was quite rugged looking, but then again, so was the mom from the Wonder Years. She had the shoulders of a linebacker and child baring hips, but she was not fat. All of these facts, though, didnt cause my fascination with this woman.

What made her amazing were the sounds she made from the bathroom. Now before you start getting all queasy let me explain. In the administration office there was a simple bathroom with one toilet which was right outside the area where the nurse’s office was, so while I waited for the nurse I heard this behemoth of a woman take a leak to end all leaks, but I am getting ahead of myself...

As I sat there waiting to see the nurse I looked down the long hallway and notice the lady come towards me. Our eyes met and she smiled, not a full smile, but more like a movement of her lips to acknowledge my existence. I smiled back and quickly looked away. She turned into the bathroom, turned on the light and shut the door. I heard a little trickle and thought nothing of it, until the flood gates opened. As the sound increased, I couldnt help but think that she was standing up and peeing from across the room, but the room wasnt nearly big enough for her to do that. I then thought that the pee was being pushed out with such force that it was probably hitting the bottom of the bowl and bouncing straight back up. I was reminded of the booth at the county fair (the one where you use a water gun to skirt a target, which is connected to one of 8 plastic horses that run along a straight track. The more accurate you are, the faster your horse goes; if your horse crosses the finish line, you win the prize), and thought that if I had her lay on her back, spread her legs and aim towards the target that I could beat any lame water gun.

Through my years of life there have been times when I have forced my pee out, making the whole experience a lot quicker in the process. This lady, however, had a forceful pee that lasted way too long for someone who was forcing a pee, so I thus concluded that she was not forcing. As she finished up and washed her hands I kept thinking to myself, "dont look at her, dont look into her eyes," but naturally, as she walked out of the bathroom I found myself starring at her in amazement. She smiled again, this time with a refreshed look on her face, and walked away.

From that point on, every time I saw this woman I reflected on the pee that I heard her take. I have forgotten her name - hell, I might not have ever known it - but I will never, EVER, forget the pee.

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