OF THINGS FINICKY AND THINGS GROSS

I felt irresponsible pee-ing into the fountain. But it was not my fault, the water wasn’t running in the men’s room of this finicky eatery at Kilo in Surulere. What I did seemed to be the only way.

I would have gone scot-free if that kid hadn’t spied me pee-ing into the fountain. I was startled out of my pants when I heard

“ewwwww, gross!”

I quickly packed it all in. The remaining pee poured into my boxers and some ran down my legs. It all felt truly gross. Really gross, that was. I’ve never pee my pants since I was frightened out of my shoes a long time ago. I can’t even remember that now.

I wouldn’t have bothered about being observed, even if I had been harassed by the security (I didn’t see any in sight, though) but there was that little girl (can’t be more that 5 or 6 staring wide-eyed and disapprovingly at (me?) or (it).

I have never been that embarrassed in my entire life. It would not have happened at all if Funmi, the chic I was meeting at Finicky, had come earlier. I was pressed beyond my endurance, and the gross way seemed to be the only way. But that only turned out the bad way.

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