That's my rationalization for my little story. My little true story.
I had one of those situations the other day where I really had to pee. A lot. And soon. Not being to continue on my journey into work, I pulled over in what turned out to be a poor choice for a restroom. A little gas station real close to the highway. I did not have time to second guess my selection once I stood up. Standing up for me means go time.
Luckily there were no keys needed in this bathroom. It was a gross little bathroom with a very unusual odor I have not had the privilege of smelling since I made the mistake of using a sidewalk porta-potty in Amsterdam.
I scurried in and quickly got to the task at hand. It was one of the best pees I have had in quite some time. It almost hurt it felt so good. About halfway through of a marathon urination session I noticed a fly hanging out on the inner side of the urinal. I had to do some maneuvering to get the right angle to hit the fly and not pee on myself or outside of the urinal. Luckily, I had a lot of pent up pee so time was not a big concern.
I aimed. Slowly, I moved the stream up towards the fly. The fly stared me down. I moved up the side of the urinal. The fly stared. And WHAMMO! I nailed that fly! God clean shot. The fly tumble down towards the water. I moved the pee stream back to safety and had a moment of satisfaction. A wet fly. Hehehe.
The fly, however, did not hit the water at the bottom of the urinal. A fly hitting the water is success. They are instantly incapacitated. They swim in circles and the pee-er can flush or scurry, makes no difference, and laugh all the way home. Not for me. Not today.
The fly pulled up at the last second. Flew up towards my head. I leaned back but was still mid-pee. The fly looked at me for a moment as if to say, "My name is Indigo Montoya. You peed on my father. Prepare for fly." He made a change of direction down and landed on my shirt.
I opted not to brush him off but to do the Britney Spears chest shake to get him off. He would not budge. I did the Victor Borge entrance shoulder slump, the Iggy Pop electric shake, and even the Judy Blume "must increase our bust" dance. Nothing. The fly sat and stared.
I finished, washed my hands, and brushed him off with a paper towel. The fly won this round bringing the grand total to 63-1 me.