Thwarting an Attack from the Forces of Urine-nation

Posted: January 25, 2012 in Everyday life, The Crazy

Part of living in a social amusement park like Capitol Hill is the nonstop excitement. This is sometimes a very entertaining part of this neighborhood, but also a repulsive, brutish reality that would make the average person run screaming in the other direction.

Or, in yesterday’s case, make someone run towards you moments after emptying his bladder on the side of your housing complex.

I turned the corner just in time to see the haggard-looking drunk making no effort to conceal the fact that he was pissing on the back door of the downstairs bar.

“What the FUCK are you doing?!” I blurted.

“Urin…ating,” he said.

“But you’re pissing on the side of our fucking building, you idiot,” I said, realizing that confronting this guy would’ve been a foreign concept to me a couple of years ago.

“Yeah, well, it’ll wash down the storm drain dude, it’ll be….just fine,” he said while swaying back and forth.

“No, ‘DUDE,’ you’re pissing on private property in broad daylight. I’m gonna call the cops and have them haul your ass away so you can show your dick to everyone downtown.”

“Leave me alone man! LEAVE ME ALONE!” he wailed and turned around, giving me a view of more than I ever wanted to see of him.

“How about you leave our front doorstep alone?” I said. “Jesus christ…”

“Dude, DUDE….I live right down the street, I’ll go home! I’LL GO HOME!”

He began to approach me, waving his arms around frantically and almost dropping his huge can of Icehouse in the process. Thank god the bastard finally zipped, I thought.

At this point, my building’s maintenance guy came out. He saw what was going on and didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and asked if I knew the non-emergency number for the police.

“NO COPS!! NO COPS!!” the drunk shouted. “I’LL GO!!!”

“Go?! You already WENT, you stupid bastard!” I shouted after him as he began to walk away.

“Aaaargh!! I just wanted to empty my bladder!!” he said, accompanied by more flailing. ”

“Shut the hell up, or I’ll follow you home and piss on your rug!!! I’LL DO IT!!!!” I said.

Sensing I had hit my own threshold of Crazy, I ended the conversation by opening the front door to the lobby and walked in. No sense in riling up the locals and risking him shining the Crazy Piss Bandit signal in the sky. He might bring backup, and soon we’d all end up drowning in a sea of raw urine that would no doubt reek of malt liquor.

“What the FUCK,” said the groundskeeper. “Now I have to go out there and wash that off.”

“Want help?” I asked. “I could at least stand guard and poke his eyes out if he comes back.”

“No,” he said with a laugh, “that’s OK. Thanks, though.”

“No problem. Maybe there’s a job for me in security,” I said.

He shrugged and went to the garage for a bucket and mop.

Maybe I’m missing my calling, I thought. Maybe there’s a future for me like Phoenix Jones, except with fewer headlines, trials and pepper spray. Or, maybe my future will be professional writer by day, and masked piss-stopping superhero by night. Wherever there is piss, I SHALL APPEAR.

What would my name be? CockPuncher the Mighty, fighting an eternal war against Piss Bandits of the Urin-nation?

 

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