About a week ago I went down to an unnamed establishment in a
small village. John (Not his Real Name.) had a little problem,
for he had to submit to a drug test the next day to get this job
he had been hoping for. John smokes a lotta herbs, and passing
the test was not in the cards, barring some kind of intervention
from his friends. It turned out that John only knew two people
who had any chance at all of ever passing the damned drug test.
I was one of them, and this fellow outlaw I'm tryin' to get to
run for county sheriff was the other, but that's almost another
So we're sittin' there, and I'm sorta flirtin' with John's
daughter, who is just about a third my age and has youthful
qualities I will not attempt to describe, and John doesn't seem
to mind too much.
Well, I'm thinking, John hasn't even shot me once yet, and he
isn't even asleep. Turns out he had a reason to be so nice. He
had a little request. "John," I said, "what's mine is urine."
Well, what happened was that John pulls out this little plastic
bottle. John obviously didn't know how big a normal man's dick
was, or he would never've got a bottle quite that small. Or
maybe that wasn't the problem. I guess you have to sneak the
illegally obtained piss into the corporate shithouse somehow,
and the best way is to hide it in your trousers. I guess there
are still some things that even the politically correct will not
do. At any rate, it was a very small bottle.
I am a marksman, however, so I went to the boy's room and sorta
got some of my own homemade piss into the bottle.
I have never been one to carry a bottle of my own piss around in
public, so I had this feeling that I was not in my element as I
waltzed from the boy's room back to the table where John and his
lovely daughter were sitting.
Now, if you've tried this lately, you will recall that fresh piss
is amazingly warm. Fresh out of the coffee pot, so to speak.
Naturally John was bullshitting with some other friends by the
time I got back to the table. Being a sorta shy person, I didn't
know how to deal with this situation. What are you gonna do?
Just put a bottle of fresh piss on a table in a rural saloon?
Or perhaps interrupt conversation and say something like "Excuse
me, here's the bottle you loaned me. I just pissed in it. Would
you like the bottle back?"
So I handed the bottle to Charlie. (She's the daughter. Not her
real name. Nobody around here has a real name any more.)
"Is this for my Dad?" Charlie says as I hand her the little
bottle. The trouble is, it was a little warmer than she
expected, since she was more practiced in holding a bottle of
cool beer than a jug of the stuff it eventually turns into. And
Charlie is really cute, which will be John's downfall for sure
and maybe her own as well.
So she dropped our little bottle down on the table perhaps a
little too hastily. Well, grown men have been known to be
attentive to the needs of shapely young women from time to
time. So immediately, Frank (Not his ...) literally jumps in to
save the situation. Frank grabs the teetering plastic bottle,
saving me from a lot of sorry explanation and a probable fistfight.
Except that this heroic rescue wasn't perfect. The seal on the
lid of the bottle was either defective or poorly designed in the
first place. Frank now has liquid all over his right forearm.
So naturally he decides to sniff his arm. I would've done the
Frank is a red-haired person. I have tried to live a life free
of prejudgment about the likely actions people will take based
on their physical characteristics. But there are some things
that are just obvious. People without legs will not likely kick
you too hard. And redheaded people will get redder if you piss
To his credit, John tried to defuse the situation, which was
developing fairly rapidly. Frank isn't listening a bit, but
fortunately is unaware that it's my piss all over his right arm.
About this time, Charlie figures out what her Dad and I have
been up to and what's in the bottle and all over Frank.
She defused the situation in proper hillwoman fashion. By the
time she explained about the pregnancy test, old Frank was
actually trying to get the portion of pee that landed on him
back in the bottle, and his complexion was nearly back to normal.
John was just about purple though, for I think he was wondering
how his daughter got to be so clever.
But he was still focused on the precious contents of the plastic
bottle. He didn't want another incident of this sort to ruin
So he went out to his truck, got some duct tape, and sealed that
Since people who administer drug testing are not necessarily
total idiots, it is necessary to reheat urine to something like
its original exit temperature before you hand it to the nice
nurse. Unlike Charlie, the nice nurse expects a warm bottle.
So John put my little bottle of piss into his microwave oven
just before his drug test. He forgot how well it was sealed.
I guess he cranked up the volume a little too far. The
inevitable occurred once again.
Well, that's what John, Charlie, Frank and I did on Thursday
night and Friday morning.
(c)1998 by Michael Voth