Give Piss A Chance

It was a long time ago. But then again…

I didn’t hear the water running. You didn’t wash your hands.

Not that again.

Well you never learn.

Urine is sterile. I told you that.


Piss, then.

Urine is such an ugly word. Piss is better. Pee is even better than that.

I agree. Did you know the Romans brushed their teeth with the stuff? To whiten them. It’s in Catullus.

I know. Ammonia. Like bleach.

Right. They especially prized Spanish piss. It got even stronger on the long journey to Rome.

Tell me something.

What’s that?

Well, did you ever taste the stuff? I mean do as the Romans did?

Nope. Never even tempted.


Okay what?

Can I ask you a personal question?

That one was personal enough. But go ahead.

It’s a little—I don’t know—

Try me.

Well, did you ever pee in a woman’s mouth?

What a question!


Sure. Once.

Really? You really did?

Once. Like I said.

Did you pay her or something?

She came into the bathroom. Knelt down beside me while I was about to take a wizz.

How did you know what she wanted?

She just sort of sat there on her knees.

Looking up into your eyes like a puppy? Or staring at your dick?

I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.

But you knew what she wanted.

It was strange. She didn’t say anything. I didn’t either.

But you knew what she wanted? Like telepathy?

I did.


It was the closest I’ve ever felt to being back inside the womb.

More like peeing in a swimming pool, I’d say. Like a kid.

It was a kind of quiet ecstasy. Just an easy release. A sort of blissful helplessness. I could have been asleep.

What was her name?

I don’t remember now.

But you remember pissing in her mouth. You remember that.

It’s the one thing about her I never forgot.

You said it’s sterile. Urine’s really sterile?

That’s what the books say.

And she swallowed it—all of it?

She emptied me.

But you don’t remember her name?

I don’t.

That’s disgusting. That’s the part that’s so disgusting.

I’m sorry.

That’s okay. I just hate it when men don’t remember what we do for them.




I’m sorry but I have to ask you something.

What’s that?

That woman you told me—

Oh brother.

I’m sorry. I can’t get her out of my head.

Just forget about it. It’s not imp—

What—was she a stripper or something—or a hooker.

No. And I told you I didn’t pay her.

Well what then? That’s all I want—

I said forget about it. I never should—

I just want to know. I mean was she a little mentally off? I know some guys like—

She was a teacher.

A teacher! My God!

Third grade. And remarkably sane as far as I could tell.

She taught children!

Still does probably.

What could possibly possess her—to drink urine?


Piss. Pee. It’s all the same.

That’s not what you said yesterday.

Yesterday I thought maybe you were pulling my leg. Like you always like to do. I was just playing along. Now I’ve had time to think about it.


I mean why. What’s the thrill?

Thrill? Who said anything about a thrill? I didn’t—

You said you really enjoyed it. Got off on it. Back in the womb and all that shit.

Maybe I did. But I didn’t say anything about how she felt about it. Thrill, no I don’t think so.

She must have said something. You don’t do something like that and not—say anything. I can’t believe that.

Well . .

She did say something! I knew it!

Darling . .

What did she say. Tell me.

She said I reminded her of her father.


She said I reminded her of her father. Something about my eyes.

Your eyes? What in the hell does that mean?

She told me when she was younger. In high school. Her father was dying of cancer. At home. In their house. Her mother wouldn’t touch the old man. Hated him, or some such shit.

Go on.

And on top of all that, he had a stroke. Couldn’t—you know—take care of himself. Became, what’s the word—incontinent.

I don’t think I want to hear this.

And her mother wouldn’t do anything for him. So she had to.

This isn’t funny. Yesterday you were funny. But this isn’t funny.

So she had to clean up after him. Get him to the bathroom if she could. Sometimes she couldn’t. His bowel movements were no problem—came out in hard little chunks.

She told you about this?

Hard little chunks. But his urine—

Stop right now. Stop right now. I don’t believe a word of this. I don’t want to listen to this. You’re making this all up. To get back at me for something.

So she started drinking it. Don’t ask me why. Saved—I don’t know—time. I found it unbelievable too.

Saved time? You’re insane. You’re the one who’s insane.

She said it brought her closer to him after a while. It’s complicated. I know. She said there had always been a distance between them. And she had always wanted to close it. And this—

This is a joke, isn’t it? There’s a punchline coming. I know it.


Tell me there’s a punchline coming. This is all bullshit. This is just one of your sicko standup routines you’re trying out on me, isn’t it.

You wanted to know. You’re the one who wanted to know.

She said you reminded her of her father. That’s the punchline, isn’t it. What a sick joke. What a sick punchline.

Okay. It’s a joke. A sick joke. Whatever. Sorry.

Tell me it’s all a joke. Yesterday and today. Tell me.

I just did.

Okay. Now listen. If she told you all this you must remember her name. I can’t believe you don’t remember that.

Of course I remember.

What is it then? What is it?

Can’t you just give it a break. Maybe a guy shouldn’t piss and tell, you know. That’s all.

Oh brother. Oh brother. Don’t try and joke yourself out of this one. Don’t you dare!

Darling . .

What is it? Tell me what it is. Then maybe I’ll believe you. And don’t make up something stupid like Miss Saffron Pease.

You know who she is. You went to high school with her.

High school? I did? Who– Her father die– High school– Cance– Stro– Yes– HER? That stuck up bitch! HER! That insufferable snob! HER! How we hated that arrogant– Looking down on all of us all the time. That’s hilarious! Disgusting! I can’t believe it! That’s rich. That’s just so rich! I love it! Tell me it’s not true! It can’t be– My God, darling. Oh I so hope it’s true!

Well, it’s true enough.

And you liked it!

I guess I can live without it.

It was just a one time thing, right? I mean—

Just a one time thing, yes.

Before we—

Before we started seeing each other. Yes.

That arrogant slut! That whore! She always . .

Always what?

Your eyes. She looked up into your eyes. Not at your dick. She looked up into your eyes.

I don’t remember. Like I said. It was a long time ago.

I can’t– I can’t look into your eyes—without—



Without—what a funny word.

Without thinking!

Without thinking what, darling?

That she loved it too.