The Pirate

I have to admit that I am not exactly sure what provokes us to make some of our decisions, especially at the most inopportune times. Touching on the previous subjects of Sam and Aaron is the ever on going debate of “pumping a grumpy”. However, their arguments rest in the utter dismay of public pooping. There is one other place with one other unlikely visitor that trumps all of the above. That is the ever presence of the “Floater”. Your arch nemesis, the toilet god that will win every battle. He will parry every offensive attack you toss at him. There is no way around this. I recently encountered this adversary at dinner party. Yes I know, “Who poops at a dinner party?” That would be me. Maybe it was a stomach virus, too much coffee, bad food, or just the fact that when you got to take “the browns to the super bowl” no one is getting in the way of that. I could not wait for home field advantage. So in the overcoming odds of the visiting palace I quietly excused myself from the table. Thinking I could set a record time much like our buddy “River Rob Ricochet” does each and every time he graces the thrown. I set off with a mission to accomplish. “Grunt…..aaaggghhhh…ooohhh….DONE!!!” It was a masterpiece a true work of art and the best thing is no one would have expected what just took place. It was odorless, clean, and noiseless. Much like a sniper in the bush. Until…while washing my hands I looked over and spotted the “Pirate” floating just under the surface. I panicked and slammed the flusher with a slight curse and then waiting in anticipation…waiting…NNNNOOOOOO!!!!!! He is back this time to my dismay I spot a slight smirk, then quickly realized it was possibly some corn or a peanut. I flush again…NOTHING…I PLUNGE…NOTHING!!!! He or she is still there circling his new claimed waters. I start to sweat, my plan of a quick getaway has failed I must return. But wait, they will all now know that it was me, there is no victory. I throw in the towel, and start back down the hallway with the pale look of death on my face and the sweat on my forehead shows my defeat. What I thought was an odorless, quick accomplished mission turned into the battle of the bowl, and I was defeated and could only ponder what discussion would come. And there she was, oh no, the one girl, the girl that I have been ogling all night. I was about to ask her out later that night and she was heading to the battle grounds. It was to late, nothing to do. I wiped my brow, offered the evening greeting. I mean what do you say at this point? “He don’t let it bite you” or “Sorry about that, if you think of a name let me know.” I returned to my seat with the quick thinking comment of, “I love those family pictures in the hallway!” I then sat down, and out of the corner of my eye waited the return of the for sure traumatized victim, for the floater sneaks up on all and with out a doubt, never sinks to defeat.