Romi’s entry today brought back a memory in me I haven’t thought about in some time. I was about 5 year-old in 1986. I was outside playing with some neighborhood kids when I felt the sudden urge to take a shit. When you’re a kid though, and you’re outside playing, running back to your house to take a shit is the last thing you want to do.
So I held it. And I held it for hours. By the time I made it back to my house, I thought I was going to explode. I couldn’t even run home either, because I was clenching my cheeks so tight, I was afraid something might shoot lose. I finally made it to the downstairs bathroom and shut the door. As I spun around and lifted the toilet seat, I started pulling down my pants and He-Man underwear. As I backed my ass to the seat, it happened.
I just couldn’t couldn’t hold it any longer. It came out right before I sat down and landed on the seat. I turned around and looked at it for a minute. My dad still lived with us at the time, and he came in and said, “What the hell did you do that for?”
I explained to him what had happened and he responded with, “It’s bad to hold it in you know.” Now, 21 years later, my dad still tells that story as if it happened yesterday. Now, I am not embarrassed at all by this story. But pops adds all these details that simply never happened. Take a look at the diagram.
How I remember it is represented on the left side. A simple duke on the toilet seat itself; no more, no less. My dad claims there was shit everywhere – on the walls, on the bowl, on the floor. Sometimes, he even says that I drew pictures and shit, like of houses and dogs and smiley faces. This claim is represented on the right side. It’s like Rashomon all over again. Which side is the real truth?