This past weekend was Halloween. I bought a crap ton of candy and treats for the trick-or-treaters.
And decorated my house like an expert….
It’s almost too scary.
And then we opened our doors to the masses. My family has this tradition every year. We buy a ton of candy to hand out to all the trick-or-treaters, watch kid Halloween movies, dress up, decorate our house, and eat as much of the Halloween candy out of the bucket as we can while we wait. We were jazzed.
Then people started flooding in our door. They weren’t just coming for candy and leaving. They were sticking around. Which we loved, but we ran into a very big problem when everyone went home. Someone done fucked up. That’s honestly the only to explain what my husband found in the hallway on his way to the bathroom.
In a very puzzled voice he called out to me, “Wendy, did the kids flood the bath-…..” that’s where the words stopped and the loud gagging started. I got up from my seat in the kitchen, and peeked my head into the hallway to find him bent over attempting to hold in all the candy he had consumed earlier in the evening. Tears in his eyes, he looked up at me and whispered,
“Someone pissed an ocean in here, and out into the hallway”.
Frightened, I realized I was standing in pee, and screamed. “NOOOOOOOOO, OH GAWD EVERYTHING’S COVERED IN URINE”! We then began a ridiculous conversation that was sprinkled with gagging and swear words. Bless my husband’s heart. When we walked into the living room to hold our conversation in a neutral, pee free zone, he caught a whiff of pee, and followed it all the way to our couches.
The piss bandit had struck my living room furniture.
I would like to say that I remained the voice of reason, but all I could smell was pee, and we had already discussed burning the house down and starting over somewhere else. Somewhere free of pee. My husband had made his mind up, and he looked at me with more determination than I’ve seen in a while from his normally laid back face. “You can sit on these if you want, but I’m never sitting on them ever again. You’ll have to kill me first if you want me to sit on one”. I said I agreed, and said, “no, we sit on the floor now. The piss bandit got us good”.
My husband nodded his head, and then started moving the couches out of the house. They are outside right now.
I went back inside and started cleaning the bathroom. I want to say that it was a modest amount of pee, but that would be a lie. I would love to say I behaved like a lady, and cleaned without resorting to swear words or gagging and vowing revenge, but that would also be a lie. I cleaned pee of the walls, bathtub, cabinet, and of course, the floor in the bathroom and the hallway.
Oddly enough I did NOT have to clean the toilet. It was completely clean. HOW? Part of me wants to know how this terrible deed was done, and the rest of me wants to remain blessedly ignorant. Now, a few words to the piss bandit who exploded in my bathroom without so much as a “hey, I blew your bathroom up with pee pee and then got it all over your couches”.
Dear Piss Bandit,
You don’t have to explain or apologize. I already know. One day, maybe so far into the future that you think you’ve gotten away with it, but mark my words, Piss Bandit. I will get you back. You will come home and smell a very familiar smell, and wonder where you know it from. You will take your shoes off, and start to walk across the floor in your house and notice that your socks are wet. Hmm, that’s weird. It’s been a long day hasn’t it, Piss Bandit? You just wanna get a snack and sit on your couch. You’ll go into your kitchen and a eerie sight will fill your vision. All of your glasses from your cabinets are out, and on your table full of…what is that? Apple juice? You don’t remember buying apple juice, do you? Oh, well no reason to let it go to waste.
You’ll grab a glass, and head back into your living room. Man, those socks sure are wet aren’t they? Plopping down onto your couch, you realize it’s wet too, and there’s that familiar smell again. What is that? You put the glass to your lips, and just as tilt the glass to take a drink, it hits you. With a deep knot of dread, you know what that smell is. You realize that I’ve peed on every single surface in your house. From the doorknob, to the every square inch of your floor, your couch, and all those glasses on your table. Why do you have that many glasses anyway?
I bet you’re wondering how I managed it? Never you mind. Aren’t I dehydrated? Maybe a little, but that’s what they make Gatorade for. I buy the red kind and call it Revengerade.
Rest in pieces Piss bandit,