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Wil Winters watering the garden

Wil Winters Waters the Garden

... when you gotta go, you gotta go

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Did you ever hear about when I went to visit an esteemed writer friend’s house? This guy, let’s call him Nick, is a well-respected author of international fame.

The bus ride had been long, tedious, and very, very bumpy. Do you know how I knew it was bumpy? It was a scorching summer afternoon in Brisbane, and I had drunk a lot of water on my walk to the bus stop. Water that, as it turned out, I had rented rather than bought. Each pothole was a testament to the endurance of the human bladder, but also one step closer to humiliation. I know a lot of people have peed on buses and trains, but damn it, I have a few shreds of dignity left, preventing me from joining their shameful ranks.

There, but for the grace of the gods, go I. Or do I?

I arrived at Nick’s house, feeling like a fire hydrant about to burst. As soon as I stepped off the bus, I knew I was in trouble. I rang Nick’s doorbell, but there was no answer. I tried again and again, beating my fists on the wood panels between chirps, but still no answer. I could feel the pressure building, and I knew I couldn’t hold it for much longer. Agony is not something with which your bladder should be protesting, but here we were.

I looked down the street for a park or a shop, trying to find somewhere to go, but there were no public restrooms nearby. The only option was to ask Nick if I could use his bathroom. But where was he? I decided to take a walk around his garden, hoping to find him there.

As I walked around the garden, I spotted the perfect spot to relieve myself. It was secluded, hidden from the road, and it had a nice flourishing of marigolds that would conceal any puddles I might make. I rushed over, unzipped, and felt the delirium of relief as I let it flow.

I finished up and headed back to the front porch, a much happier, far less desperate man. My plan was to wait on the seat in the afternoon breeze for twenty minutes in case he had popped out for a quick errand.

My tush had barely touched the cushion when the front door opened. Nick emerged.

11pm rolled round and the club owner summoned the band to the stage. Blaise and I looked at each other with nervous smiles. This was it, show time!

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