Disclaimer: I love Cousin Craig. I invited him to write for Odd. I think he is funny (both ha ha and you know… funny,) but I take no responsibility for what he writes. None. His words and thoughts are all his. I am the odd but nice one.

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My Odd Family – Dilemma

Well, I’m stumped, and something needs to be decided and decided quickly!

I’m here at the mall in the year of our Lord 2026, and I can’t find the bathroom. Let me restate that: I can’t find the right bathroom. I was in the food court enjoying what was once some kind of Chinese food. I never ask what’s in it. All I know is that the Chinese food place is never more than a block from the vet. Anyway, my Doberman delight was spicy and tangy and almost edible. After a few minutes I could feel the food-like lump hitting my stomach. That’s when I got my first notice.

“Brain, this is the Stomach. You need to start looking for a bathroom.”

“Is the situation critical?” replied Brain.

“No yet; this is just an advisory that conditions are setting up for a gastrointestinal emergency—a.k.a. shit storm.”

“Roger that, Stomach. Keep us advised.”

I began to look and almost immediately saw the sign for the restrooms, but unfortunately these were the transgender bathrooms. You can tell because the little logo for the transgender women has a dress bottom but also big shoulders and an Adam’s apple. The logo for the transgender men has the male bottom but boobs breasts on top. Obviously, I couldn’t use those bathrooms. I looked down the main stretch and saw in the distance a sign for restrooms. I made for them as I received my second notice.

“Brain, this is Stomach. That soda you drank is giving the colon a caffeine kick. This situation is developing quickly. We need to find a bathroom.”

“We’re on the way, Stomach. E.T.A. five minutes to splashdown.”

“That’s good news. We’ll keep you posted. This could be a bad one.”

I approached the restroom area and was beginning to feel only the first pressure developing. Then I saw it, and as my heart sunk, my sphincter tightened. This was the gay bathroom area. The little man and woman logos were normal, but they both had rainbows over them. I tried to decide which one I identified with without success. I guessed I was a lesbian, since I’m attracted to women, but thought it was best to just keep on looking. 

I asked a security guard who noticed and appeared to sympathize with my state of urgency. He directed me past the food court all the way to the other end of the mall. I made for that location POSTHASTE.

Have you ever tried to walk quickly while holding your butt cheeks firmly together? It’s two forces working against one another. I had an unstoppable force brewing, and I was trying to create an immovable block at the exit. The third notice arrived.

“Brain! What the hell is going on up there? We are going critical, I repeat, CRITICAL.”

“Hold on, Stomach! We are making for a usable restroom as you receive this message. E.T.A. three minutes!”

“I’m giving her all I can, Brain. I hope it’s enough!”

I burst into the restroom area and couldn’t believe my eyes. These were handicapped restrooms. I was willing to throw caution and a bit of methane to the wind. I tried both doors, but they were locked. A security guard came over and reminded me that these facilities were reserved for the handicapped mall occupants. I explained, between deep, calming breaths, my situation.

“Well,” he said, “we’ve got the family restrooms upstairs, the special needs children’s restrooms down by the play area, and the senior citizen rest area over by the wheelchair rental. Any of those fit the bill?”

I shook my head, no longer able to open any orifice without losing control of all of them.

“Hmm” was his only response.

Left without any further options, I made for the center of the mall.

“Brain, we’re losing it. He’s gonna blow!”

“I know, Stomach. I know. God help us all.”

In the center of the mall was a large fountain. As I approached, I heard the running water and squirted a bit before I regained control. I finally made it and walked right in. Squatting in the corner, I just letting go. I pooped, I peed, and I cried a little at the relief. My nose ran, I think because it didn’t want to be left out of this full-body voiding. I squatted over one of the fountain sprays, using it as a bidet. As I made my way out of the now murky fountain, I could see the mall security forces approaching from all sides. I didn’t care. I held my head high. I had respected the rights of all people, and at least in that, I could be proud.

“The police are on their way, pal. You’re in big trouble.”

“I couldn’t hold it anymore! Take me away and book me for public indecency,” I exclaimed.

“This isn’t public indecency,” said the officer. “This is a hate crime.”

“A HATE CRIME?!”

“You bet,” he said. As he placed my hands in cuffs, he motioned up toward a sign I hadn’t seen.

It read “Rest Area Reserved for Fish, Mermaids, Mermen, and Unicorns.” As I looked more closely, I could see that the fountain had been marked into four distinct areas to provide for each, complete with logos too bizarre to even describe. I guessed that my . . . transgression had been in the unicorn area.

“But there’s no such thing as unicorns!” I yelled. “I’ve never seen one!”

“And you never will if you keep shitting in their toilet.”

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I’ve had this feeling of desperation a few times, have you?

Odd Loves Company