Bill looked over at Betsy and saw the early warning signs of a disaster. Betsy’s ivory skin was developing deep circular blotches at her neckline. These blotches would eventually cover her entire face and by that time an explosion was a near certainty. Betsy herself had named this embarrassingly public display of her inner state of distress as “Blotch and Blow”. She had worked most of her life to try and suppress this display, but certain situations were beyond her control and the current outrage fell into that category.
Bill had wanted to visit his old college roommate, Michael, for years. All the stories that Betsy had heard about Michael and his eccentricities did not make Betsy want to meet him. He called himself “Michael Recycle”. Betsy thought he sounded like the perfect embodiment of an uncouth, disrespectful and self-absorbed old hippie. Not her type at all, but here they were at Michael’s cabin on a remote island that it took 5 hours of road and boat rides to get to and there was no way to leave. The ferry to the island only arrived and departed once a day.
They had just taken a tour of Michael’s tiny cabin that he shared with his “partner”, Alice. Oh my god, Alice! Loosely dressed and loosely limbed, Alice was the picture of what a twirly dancer looks like at the age of 75. And the cabin! Decorated with whale vertebrae, deer bones, eagle feathers, rocks, and of course dust. When the tour came to the bathroom, Michael proudly described his Incinolet and how it turned human waste into fine ash. It was a marvel according to Michael. Bill noticed the first signs of pink on Betsy’s neck when Michael stated that the Incinolet was only used for number 2. “The yellow stuff is in the public domain, or what we like to call ‘ The Peetorium.’”
“Come on, I’ll show you. Allice, if you would be so kind as to show Betsy the lady’s accommodations?”
Alice smiled her crooked yellow smile and said: “Come on Betsy, girl. You and I are going to become great friends. I just know it.”
Across the scrubby yard and into the trees, down a path, there was the “Peetorium” which was constituted of an upside-down gardening pot with a hole cut in the top. “Here we return our minerals to the kind and generous earth,” Alice said.
Michael had just shown Bill where to unzip and spray over the cliff down toward the open sea, and they were walking over toward Alice and Betsy when Bill saw the unmistakable signs of the pending explosion.
“Bill” Betsy yelled. “I am not having this! I will not participate in this indecent, unsanitary, and most certainly illegal public urination. This place makes a public restroom look absolutely inviting! You will get me to a hotel, and you will do it NOW!”
There was, of course, no hotel on the tiny island. No public accommodation of any kind. Bill and Betsy had drunk their usual 2 cups of daily coffee, and the peetorium was waiting.
— DanielSouthGate
Bill had wanted to visit his old college roommate, Michael, for years. All the stories that Betsy had heard about Michael and his eccentricities did not make Betsy want to meet him. He called himself “Michael Recycle”. Betsy thought he sounded like the perfect embodiment of an uncouth, disrespectful and self-absorbed old hippie. Not her type at all, but here they were at Michael’s cabin on a remote island that it took 5 hours of road and boat rides to get to and there was no way to leave. The ferry to the island only arrived and departed once a day.
They had just taken a tour of Michael’s tiny cabin that he shared with his “partner”, Alice. Oh my god, Alice! Loosely dressed and loosely limbed, Alice was the picture of what a twirly dancer looks like at the age of 75. And the cabin! Decorated with whale vertebrae, deer bones, eagle feathers, rocks, and of course dust. When the tour came to the bathroom, Michael proudly described his Incinolet and how it turned human waste into fine ash. It was a marvel according to Michael. Bill noticed the first signs of pink on Betsy’s neck when Michael stated that the Incinolet was only used for number 2. “The yellow stuff is in the public domain, or what we like to call ‘ The Peetorium.’”
“Come on, I’ll show you. Allice, if you would be so kind as to show Betsy the lady’s accommodations?”
Alice smiled her crooked yellow smile and said: “Come on Betsy, girl. You and I are going to become great friends. I just know it.”
Across the scrubby yard and into the trees, down a path, there was the “Peetorium” which was constituted of an upside-down gardening pot with a hole cut in the top. “Here we return our minerals to the kind and generous earth,” Alice said.
Michael had just shown Bill where to unzip and spray over the cliff down toward the open sea, and they were walking over toward Alice and Betsy when Bill saw the unmistakable signs of the pending explosion.
“Bill” Betsy yelled. “I am not having this! I will not participate in this indecent, unsanitary, and most certainly illegal public urination. This place makes a public restroom look absolutely inviting! You will get me to a hotel, and you will do it NOW!”
There was, of course, no hotel on the tiny island. No public accommodation of any kind. Bill and Betsy had drunk their usual 2 cups of daily coffee, and the peetorium was waiting.
— DanielSouthGate
The hole in the floor: (or in this case a literal Pot to P* in) The dread of many Western women. Captured so well. I love your writing.
ReplyDeletelkai by the way
DeleteVery clever. Love peetorium.
ReplyDeleteThere used to be a sign in the Engineering men's room at Auburn University picturing a man squatting on a toilet with an X through it. Evidently one of the foreign students who was used to squat hole toilets fell off the toilet and broke his arm. :) opelikakat
ReplyDeleteThere's so much hysterical shame around peeing in some cultures (mainstream America?) Is it a coincidence that there's another similar story for this prompt? (The woman on the airplane by Lkai). I actually LIKE Alice; she and I can be friends instead. The "blotches" are a great start; shameless foreshadowing! Thanks for a laugh! ---Macoff
ReplyDeleteI bet you were a twirly dancer in your early years......
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