Walking on the street with my hat on, seemingly paying no attention to passers-by, I scuttle to my motorcycle. I could feel my bladder began groaning because the urine was nearly full to capacity every step I took. The storm was howling in my bladder
, but I couldn’t find an appropriate john to relieve the burden of my bladder.
I was standing in front a restaurant with legs crossed to restrain myself from incontinence and tried to pick up my audacity to plead with the boss for a favor. In the end, I was too sheepish to ask for the favor.
Since I could arrive at home in 40 minutes, a young, powerful and vigorous bladder as mine should be no problem for this jaunt. Dashing to the motorcycle, hopping on adeptly, and igniting the engine, I was on the road in a wink. However, the 40 minutes were suffering. Less than 3 minutes ride from the parking lot, a mocking yellow light blinked and the traffic light changed to red, scoffed at me and seemed to say,” though you are afflicted, I still won’t let you pass. Hahaha!!!” Few blocks from the red light, I faced another relentless traffic light stopping me.
My bladder was on the verge of exploding, so I ran the next red light on a whim and lamented for my behavior at once. A policeman waved his hand at me and his angle of mouth split to the back of his head deridingly. I was really exasperated by his face. I promised I would remember his name and bought a Voodoo doll with his name etched on it as a pincushion. I could feel the storm in the bladder was billowing when I talked with the policeman. God!! Why was I so miserable?
It was the only comfort that I held my pee successfully until I rushed into the lovely john at home. I had never ever felt so close to the toilet before.