I've been meaning to write about one of my piano student's younger brother. I have written about the piano student in a earlier blog, and I referred to him as the Reluctant Pianist. His little brother is a handful, and I shall refer to him as Wild Beast. I'll never forget the first piano lesson with Wild Beast peeking around the corner staring at me to see what I was doin' at his house. He was sportin' a devilish grin, and he has turned out to be as impish as he looked that first time I saw him. He did something today that probably has been done a hunerd million times by some little kid to some adult, but it's just that I'm an elementary school teacher who has never had children and am not around preschoolers that much, so I was caught off guard.
I hate to use my client's bathrooms. I go in their house every week for a piano lesson, and I don't want to make a regular habit of dumpin' or whizzin' my load in their house every time I arrive, so I make sure I relieve myself BEFORE the lesson. That way I have a little class and I don't potty every time I'm there.
Except I had a cold. I'm fightin' this one off with everything I have. Expensive juices, VSC, NyQuil, DayQuil, NoonQuil, and lots of liquids of every kind. What this means is, my kidneys and bladder are workin' overtime. So I'm at the Wild Beast's house preparing his older brother for his first piano recital when all of a sudden I realize I'm not going to make it. I check my watch for the amount of time left, the rapidly swelling bladder, and it doesn't take Stephen Hawkings to calculate that I won't make it back to my house, or possibly even my car. So I ask the mother if I may please use their restroom, and she graciously says yes.
I'm in their bathroom taking a relatively long time because I am in my post radical prostatectomy eager bladder and minuscule urethea days, when the little Wild Beast yells out, "HE'S IN THERE PEEIN'!!" I realize that Wild Beast is standin' outside the bathroom door announcing what I hate to do at any client's home and that's use their bathroom. The one time I do it, it's being announced by a kid with vocal chords stronger than a Bose MAX 6000 public address system. I feared he'd start givin' a play-by-play!
"He's unzippn' his britches! He reaches in and pulls out his _ _ _ _ _ _, grabs it in his hands and makes sure it's pointin' in the right direction because the one time you don't want to aim wrong is at someone else's house. He's holdin' his _ _ _ _ _ _ in his hand and is now lettin' it fly. Oops! It's more of a dribble. How come it's not shootin' out? I bet he's bein' careful not to let it dribble on his pants. He'd have to stay in there for a long time if he wets the front of his pants. Boy, this is takin' some time. I'd be done by now. It's slowin' down. Say, Mom, I think he's almost done. The flow is slowin' down now. I just hear drops. Uh-oh! Here comes more. What is with this geezer? Folks, it's a pitiful display of excretory muscles. If it warn't fer gravity, this pee-pee would never come out. Wait a minute, everybody! I think this is it. He's probably giving it a good shake now because the last thing you want is to reposition your _ _ _ _ in your pants before it's all finished. Grown men hate leakage. He's takin' his _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ and shovin' it back in there. I hear the zipper goin' again. It's official! He's done!!!
When you're at the Reluctant Pianist's house, you don't have to worry about being embarrassed all by yourself. The whole house is in on it, thanks to Wild Beast.