AT THE PARTY (#3)
Sean goes to a Christmas Party at Penelope’s and shit happens.
I was at a party. At Penelope’s.
I had to pee, badly, but I did not know, could not know, how just needing to pee would cause me almost as many problems as that damn rock would.
The party was packed and there’d been a line at the bathroom for an hour. Several people behind me gave up. Eventually, I was alone in line.
And, alone in line, I was thinking about the last five days. Monday, a man dropped a package in my pocket. It was just a rock, but it was weird.
Tuesday, I told Jan, Cynthia, Robbie and Penelope about it at lunch in the courtyard where we eat on nice days. I told them all about Crazy Train Platform Man and his Crazy Rock and Staring Man, one of the Three Train Thugs.
Penelope’s bathroom door finally opened and a young woman hurried out. I gave her a friendly smile but she doesn’t see it, head down, not looking at or acknowledging me. I hurried in, lifted up the toilet seat and…
And, in all my years on God’s green earth, I’ve never seen such a Ginormous poop. It was so big it broke my brain to the point where I started thinking about Wednesday morning.
I was stepping on the elevator when I heard Cynthia. She shouted, “Sean, hold the elevator!” When she got on, she told me she’d been thinking about Staring Man all night. She asked, what do you think of him? Why was he staring? If Crazy Train Platform Man is simply crazy, what does that make Staring Man? He chased and tackled him, right? He was searching him, right?
Cynthia usually asks a lot of questions and usually I am not able to answer all of them.
But some of those questions had occurred to me, too.
A question I am trying to answer right now is: Who the hell could generate a turd like this?
Thick as my wrist and long and coiled like a cobra waiting to strike.
I think to go out to the party and yell, “People, come behold the creature in Penelope’s toilet!”
But then… someone knocked on the door. I shriek “Someone’s in here!” in a weird voice because I guess I have to pee so bad? And I realize, “Oh no, I was alone in line. I’m the only one who saw the Huge Turd Woman leave!”
These people at the party, most of them from work, are going to think I gave birth to King Cobra. If it was really mine, fine. But, it isn’t fine because it isn’t mine and so it’s time to say “goodbye!” so I flush it.
Thursday at work had been this year’s apex. I spoke, and everyone listened. And everyone loved me. And I told everyone that I was going to let Crazy Rock go free in the courtyard under the only tree and Robbie said, “Hey we should have a ceremony!”
And we did. I held my arms high, displaying Crazy Rock like Mufasa held Simba. I spoke. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to celebrate this thing called Crazy Rock. You are a rock of everlasting happiness, may you always see the sun, day… and night. Crazy Rock, you’re not alone! Let’s go crazy!!”
Then, I set Crazy Rock free under the lone tree in the courtyard, so he can be with his rock friends while I rocked with my friends. Behind me, Jan and Robbie harmonized a Prince song while Cynthia beat-boxed. Penelope and I danced. It was muy awesome.
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Right now, in the bathroom with the Cobra Kai, it was not awesome. Flushing didn’t work. The turd was so large, it simply spun in place, around and around and around, too dizzy to find the exit. Meanwhile, the water in the toilet came dangerously close to the top, suspensefully suspending then slowly descending in retreat.
Then, again, someone knocked at the door. I repeated, “Hey, someone’s in he-ear!” This time, I did it with a weird accent. Like, whaaaat? Why am I doing that? They said, “Other people need to use the bathroom, too!”
I spotted a toilet bowl brush, next to and a little behind the toilet. I grabbed it and jousted at the poop. I poked at it but it was like cement. I panicked and flushed again.
**While I tensely waited to see if it flushed this time, I thought about how it was now Friday and I took a cab to and from work all week and now have burned through my transportation fund and now must go back to taking the train.
And I’m worried about being accosted by Staring Man and The Three Train Thugs. They gotta still be looking for me, right?
Again, the water in the toilet came right up to the edge of the bowl. A little slipped over the edge and down the side of the toilet and this reminded me that I still have to pee. And that brings me to this. Don’t judge me. It was an emergency. I’m not this kind of guy.
I pulled back the shower curtain, turned on the water… – and peed into the bathtub.
Through the door, I hear more people congregating. I recognize Penelope’s boyfriend’s voice, saying, “Is someone taking shower?”
The toilet is basically clogged. The bathroom now smells horrible, as if Turd Woman dined on week-old roadkill that emitted the odor of Satan himself. The woman probably grabbed her coat and left Penelope’s party post-haste and with deep shame, dammit.
Can you imagine the entrance I would make, if I went back into that party? Exactly. That’s why I did what I did next.
I went out the window, shimmied on a little ledge to the neighbor’s fire escape, climbed and hopped down.
And I ran. I ran so far away. I didn’t have money for a cab, so I headed to the train station and when I got there, I suddenly got nervous. But… Staring Man must have given up looking for me by now, right?
Written, Produced and Narrated by Hans Anderson