As if Farmer H ear-waxing T-Hoe's steering wheel, and licking his supper fingers after tossing a dead mouse off the porch were not enough...
On the last morning of Casinopalooza 2, my sister the ex-mayor's wife had already departed a day earlier, and the Hillbilly family was on their own. We had a quick breakfast at the coffee shop. The Pony had donut holes and a chocolate-iced cake donut, the #1 Son had a fritter, and I had the bagel bomb. It was delicious. A closed-in bagel filled with cream cheese with bacon and green pepper and other stuff. Or so the guy said. I imagine it was just the cream cheese flavored spread, because I didn't see any big hunks of the advertised fillings inside. But it was tasty. About the size of a baseball. Of course Farmer H had a fritter. AND a bagel bomb.
We went back up to the room to use our own bathroom before checking out. Farmer H went in. Then #1. Then I took my turn. Not The Pony. He's like a reverse camel. He could walk across the rain forest, hydrating himself hourly, absorbing humidity through his skin, soaking in water through the soles of his feet while wading in creeks...and never need to pee for the entire journey.
Anyhoo...I went in for my last pit stop before we hit the road. And sat in pee. Sweet Gummi Mary! It's not like I'm raising toddlers again.
"One of you two needs to learn how to use a toilet. I just sat in your pee."
"It wasn't me," declared Farmer H.
"Well, I only went in there to use the sink to fix my hair. I didn't even use the toilet," professed #1.
I turned my attention back to Farmer H. I said nothing, but my look said, "Aha!"
"Huh. It wasn't me. I wiped the seat," explained Farmer H with too many details that would get him convicted by a jury of toilet-seat-pee-ers.
"I don't know with WHAT. Or WHERE. Because my whole right thigh is even now wet with your pee."
"Ew! You don't have to tell us that!" #1 has a bit of a weak constitution.
"Imagine how I feel! I should have got in the shower to wash it off! That would have made you all complain about the wait."
"Whatever you say." Farmer H thinks that's getting the best of the argument.
"No. It's not what I say. It's what YOU DO! I already wiped it off the floor! Last night, too."
"Stop making such a big deal." Said the man who had undoubtedly left a trail of urine from eastern Missouri to Northeastern Oklahoma.
Let the record show that it IS a big deal! To the one who cleans it up. And sits in it.