By Kelly Hines
Well, I didn’t pee on the phone, but I peed while I was talking on the phone. I thought I could be quick, and quiet about it (I don’t know why I thought I had the superpower to make my pee silent).
I suppose I could have just said “Hold on a minute.” I didn’t even have to tell her I was peeing, I could have just said “Hold on.” She wouldn’t have asked questions, she’s nice like that.
I did not anticipate the excruciating silence as she was trying to remember what she was going to say, which coincided precisely with my giant horse piss. I considered starting to sing very loudly, but thought that might be even more awkward. So I just sat there, listening to the longest, loudest pee in the history of pee.
I didn’t flush, because that would have given me away for sure. Instead, I cleaned the bathroom while we continued our conversation. I hoped the water running made her at least pause and think “Oh, maybe she wasn’t peeing. Maybe there is just something wrong with her pipes.”
And this is the kind of freak I am: Instead of just letting it go (figuratively, because I kind of already did that literally), I have been thinking about it all day – to the point where I had to conduct an experiment to gauge just how embarrassed I should be.
Hey, honey. What are you doing?
Working. What’s up?
Am I on speakerphone?
Yes, but no one’s in my office.
Take me off speakerphone.
OK. Is everything alright?
Yeah, be quiet and tell me if you hear anything. (pee)
Uh, just some like *crickleacklecrickle* background noise.
(Now, it is difficult to type exactly the noise he made, but it was similar to rustling leaves, or perhaps a distant waterfall.)
OMG. (I start laughing so hard I’m doing the silent, wheezy laugh.)
What did you do? Did you fall? Are you hurt? Did you fall down?
(The natural assumption when I do anything stupid is that I have fallen.)
I just peed. It was me peeing.
SILENCE, then – You did not call me up to pee on the phone.
Well, I didn’t pee on the phone…