(no subject)
Avoiding a fight, I go to the bathroom. When I return she is sitting on the couch staring at the blank, powerless T.V. screen. My dad has just arrived, and I can hear him closing the gate outside.
“Do you ever wash your hands?” She asks.
“They probably get clean when I’m in the shower”
“That’s not healthy.” My dad is still outside. I go to the door and see that he is piling toilets up in the front yard. My dad is a plumber, but not if you ask him. If you ask him he is a contractor, or a “bathroom and kitchen remodeling specialist”. This means that he is a plumber with a tile saw. I call to him from the doorway,
“Hey. Duce,” I call him ‘Duce’ because we are both named Ron. He is Ron, and I am Ron, so he is Duce.
“Yeah?” he groans, straining his back with the weight of the toilet.
“Do you wash your hands after you piss?”
“Do I what?” A car passed by. He didn’t hear me.
“Do you wash your hands after you piss?” By now Jamie has joined me in the doorway. My dad, the Duce, suddenly assumes a new personality. He becomes a different person around Jamie, because he knows how sensitive she can be. He likes Jamie a lot, everyone does. You have to like Jamie. She is just that kind of person, pure.
“Well, to be fair,” he sets the toilet down, “urine is the cleanest substance the human body produces. It’s true.” I smile, and I can tell Jamie is uncomfortable. “In World War II the soldiers used urine to clean wounds. They’d even drink it.” I can see our neighbor watching us through her blinds. My dad has an unusually resonant voice; the whole neighborhood is probably listening in. “So no,” he continues, as my mom strolls up to the house. She was out on a walk. She has been walking recently. The Duce preaches, eyeing his new audience. “I usually don’t wash my hands. I would probably be best off to just piss on my hands towards the end. I mean, what with all that stuff they’re putting in the water now.” My mom is a tree, she is frozen.
“What are you talking about?” She is a talking tree.
“Well, they just asked me about when I pee.”
“Do you ever wash your hands?” She asks.
“They probably get clean when I’m in the shower”
“That’s not healthy.” My dad is still outside. I go to the door and see that he is piling toilets up in the front yard. My dad is a plumber, but not if you ask him. If you ask him he is a contractor, or a “bathroom and kitchen remodeling specialist”. This means that he is a plumber with a tile saw. I call to him from the doorway,
“Hey. Duce,” I call him ‘Duce’ because we are both named Ron. He is Ron, and I am Ron, so he is Duce.
“Yeah?” he groans, straining his back with the weight of the toilet.
“Do you wash your hands after you piss?”
“Do I what?” A car passed by. He didn’t hear me.
“Do you wash your hands after you piss?” By now Jamie has joined me in the doorway. My dad, the Duce, suddenly assumes a new personality. He becomes a different person around Jamie, because he knows how sensitive she can be. He likes Jamie a lot, everyone does. You have to like Jamie. She is just that kind of person, pure.
“Well, to be fair,” he sets the toilet down, “urine is the cleanest substance the human body produces. It’s true.” I smile, and I can tell Jamie is uncomfortable. “In World War II the soldiers used urine to clean wounds. They’d even drink it.” I can see our neighbor watching us through her blinds. My dad has an unusually resonant voice; the whole neighborhood is probably listening in. “So no,” he continues, as my mom strolls up to the house. She was out on a walk. She has been walking recently. The Duce preaches, eyeing his new audience. “I usually don’t wash my hands. I would probably be best off to just piss on my hands towards the end. I mean, what with all that stuff they’re putting in the water now.” My mom is a tree, she is frozen.
“What are you talking about?” She is a talking tree.
“Well, they just asked me about when I pee.”