I crawled out of bed the next morning with an aching body; every joint, muscle, bone and extremity hurt more than the worst pain I had ever felt, and I couldn't figure out why for the life of me. I chalked it up to having bad luck until I remembered I swam an Olympic marathon for sixteen Michael Phelpses the day before trying to save myself from drowning out at sea.
I sluggishly shuffled out of my room to the bathroom to urinate only to find that the toilet had somehow exploded. The base of it was completely ripped out of the floor. The porcelain bowl was blown to smithereens, and water from the shattered tank flooded the tile floor. The whole thing was flipped upside down like the fresh prince of Bel-Air's life.
Kayla passed by the bathroom doorway. I called to her, and she stopped floating towards the stairs and grimaced at me. "What happened to the toilet?" I asked her.
She looked me dead in the eyes and responded, "I sharted."
I knitted my brows and stared at her with a perplexed expression. "Okay, this might sound like a dumb question," I began, "but how do you break wind, leak a bit of poop, and blow up the toilet?"
She hovered into the bathroom and sat in the sink. She shrugged. "I ate a burrito at Taco Bell while me and the fam were in Hell yesterday," she answered halfheartedly. "You know, it do be like that sometimes."
I threw my head back and let out a pained groan. "Now I gotta use the toilet in Mom and Dad's room. I hate going in there. Dad has all those creepy mannequins that just stare at you with dead, empty, lifeless eyes... assuming they're even the ones that have eyes."
"Hey! Don't be mean to those mannequins! They were my only friends growing up."
I tilted my head to the side curiously. "And now I think I know why you turned out as creepy as you did."
She slowly leaned in real close to me until I could smell the roadkill she ate for breakfast on her breath. She lowered her voice to a rough whisper. "They talked to me sometimes."
Uncomfortable and weirded out, I threw my hands up in surrender. "Okay, I really gotta pee now. I should go." I cautiously backed away from her and shimmied around her, careful not to get too close. It was hard telling what sort of mischievous thing she might do or what sort of gross substance her body would excrete or what rabid or hostile animal would crawl out of her clothes.
I made it out of the bathroom alive (for now) and headed down the stairs. The urine was building up in my bladder and putting enormous pressure on my urethra.
I staggered into the kitchen, trying my hardest not to dribble pee in my boxers as I walked towards my parents' bedroom. Unfortunately, my father was sitting at the island eating plain toast and reading the newspaper. He peered over the top of the paper with his big doe eyes. He lowered the paper and smiled at me. "Good morning, Jimmy!" he greeted cheerfully. "Care to join me for breakfast?" For a man that barely got any sleep and should be the crankiest, grumpiest person on the planet because of it, he was quite delightfully a cheery morning person.
His pleasant, warm smile was too irresistible to ignore. I had to stop and eat cooked bread with him. "Sure, Dad," I replied. "I'd love to."
He folded his paper and placed it on the marble top. "Would you like something other than un-buttered toast to eat?" he asked. He stood up and looked in the cereal cabinet. "I do believe we have some Lucky Charms around here somewhere."
I snarled at the suggestion. "No thanks," I said respectfully. "I haven't liked that cereal since middle school."
He pulled the box out of the cupboard and looked at it. "That explains why this box has been sitting up here since 2011..." He stared at the box for a moment, seemingly mesmerized by it. Suddenly, as if breaking whatever weird spell that box had cast over him, he promptly threw it in the trash can and returned to his seat. "That must be the same cereal box you found Kayla's book in the day Felix and Helix moved in next door."
I shuttered at the sound of Helix's name. Hearing it made my heart ache and called back to mind painful memories. "Dad, please," I pleaded. "Don't mention his name. You promised..."
Dad shook his head and sighed. "Jimmy, you have to talk about it sometime." He reached across the island, grabbed my hands and held them in his. "You've been bottling up all of your feelings about Helix's passing, and it's not healthy for you. You need to talk about it in order to heal."
I felt tears begin to well in my eyes. I pulled one of my hands from my father's and used my fist to rub the tears out of my eyes. "There's nothing to talk about." I lowered my gaze to the floor. "Helix is dead, and it's all my fault."
My father released my hands. The sound of the legs of his chair scraping against the marble floor pierced my eardrums. After a moment, I felt his presence next to me, and one of his giant hands found its way to my shoulder. "Jimmy, it wasn't your fault."
My efforts to hold back the tears were thwarted by the years of heavy emotional baggage I was carrying. The salty tears fell, staining my cheeks and making them glisten in the morning sunlight leaking through the kitchen window. "It is my fault. You can even ask Felix."
Dad wrapped his arms around me, locking me in a tight embrace. "He was his brother. Of course Felix is going to blame his brother's death on somebody to help him cope with his loss. It's a normal response to grief. It's important for you to know that it wasn't because of you. You didn't put Helix on those railroad tracks. You didn't tie him down to them."
I was sobbing uncontrollably by that time. "It was my fault! I might as well have tied the knot that sealed his fate! If I had just hung out with him that day like he wanted to, he would have never been taken and murdered!"
He released his grip on me and settled his hands on my shoulders, giving me a little shake. "He could have just as easily been kidnapped had he been with you, and you could have been taken too. We all live with regrets, Jimmy, regardless how irrational they may be. You can blame yourself for not spending time with him, but you can't blame yourself for the actions of others. Your decision had no bearing on the outcome of that day. Helix went on with his plans without you, which should tell you they were planning on doing that to him whether you were there or not. It was premeditated. I, for one, am glad you didn't go that day. I'm relieved that you're still here with me, just as any parent would be. Feeling guilty that someone else is gone while you escaped that fate and continue to live is normal and understandable. But you have to realize there's nothing wrong with feeling relieved that you're still here, and you can't blame yourself for taking yourself out of the situation."
So many different emotions came over me. The guilt I felt for Helix's death wasn't because he wasn't there anymore to live life, but rather because of the selfish wish that it had been me instead. I felt that way because my life didn't seem to be worth living, and Helix had so much to live for and made life a little better for me. But without him, there hardly was me. He was the best friend I ever had aside from Chris.
"Thanks, Dad," I choked out in a whisper. I wasn't really thankful for his words that should have been comforting. I only wanted him to stop talking about it, and I didn't want to tell him how I truly felt about the whole ordeal.
He kissed the top of my head. "You're welcome, buddy. And I'm ready to listen any time you need to talk." He returned to his chair on the other side of the island and continued reading his newspaper.
Our gut-wrenching, heartstrings-tugging conversation made me momentarily forget I had to pee like a Russian race horse until Kayla tumbled down the stairs, making a ruckus. She rolled over to my father, only stopping once her balled up body hit his loafer and bounced off. She unrolled herself and levitated in the air. "Father, I command you to retrieve me a glass of lemonade," she commanded.
Without looking up from his newspaper, my father said without missing a beat, "Either use your manners or get it yourself. I'm not your slave."
Steam rolled out of Kayla's ears as anger consumed her. She hated being polite more than anything. It went against her evil demon code. Furious, she growled, "Father, would you please retrieve me a glass of lemonade?"
Dad set his newspaper down again and smiled. He ruffled her hair with his hand. "That's more like it, my sweet little Hell spawn." I watched him get up and get a glass from the cabinet and the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge. My eyes began to water from pain as he poured the light lime colored liquid into the glass. Sweat began to bead on my forehead as condensation formed on the outside of the glass, slowly dripping down the side and pooling on the table around the bottom of the cup. Kayla picked up the cup and poured the lemonade into her mouth slowly. She knew I had to pee so freaking bad, and she was doing all of this on purpose to torture me.
"Is Mom still asleep?" I asked Dad desperately. "Kayla blew up our toilet, and I need to use the bathroom."
Dad shook his head. "You can't go into our room," he replied. "Your mom caught a nasty cold in Hell and is currently puking lava. It's too dangerous to go in there. You're just gonna have to wait until you get to school." He looked at the clock on the stove. "Speaking of, you're going to be late again if you don't go get ready!"
I let out a cry of pain and frustration before getting up and carefully shuffling my way back up to my room to get dressed for school. I was so desperate to release the urine from my bladder. I sauntered over to my window. I figured that maybe I could crack it open and pee outside of it really quick and the rain we were supposed to get later that day could wash whatever I got on the side of the house off. But, of course, with my luck, Felix had his face pressed to the glass of his window staring directly at me with a sinister smirk on his face. He had print-outs of the nude pictures he took of me the other day taped to his window so I could see them. I contemplated my options for a moment. He already had dick pics of me, so surely it couldn't have made much of a difference if he got another one. However, he didn't have one of me peeing out the window in desperation, which was considerably more embarrassing than the other pictures.
I scrapped the idea entirely and got dressed. I wasn't about to give Felix the satisfaction of acquiring more resources he could use to embarrass me. I grabbed my book bag and headed back out of the room and to the kitchen.
Dad was already waiting for me by the front door, keys in hand. Kayla left on her alpaca, and I could hear Mom puking in the other room.
We exited the house and got into the car. "Can we stop at the gas station?" I asked. "I really have to pee."
Dad shook his head again, making my heart sink into the bottom of my stomach. "If we make any stops, you're definitely going to be late for school," he said. "The whole purpose of me bringing you to school today was to make sure you get there on time so you don't get in trouble again. It's bad enough you have to stay over every day this week for detention since you skipped it yesterday and left school early."
I threw my head back against the head rest of my seat and closed my eyes. I tried to think of my kiss with Chris the day before to forget about the growing pains in my bladder and groin. It seemed to work because all of the urgency to pee was replaced with the warm fuzzy feeling I felt when my lips were latched to Chris's. I could taste his mouth again: Goldfish crackers mixed with Mountain Dew and cherry flavored vape. A small smile danced on my lips.
When the car stopped, I opened up my eyes and looked at my father. He was putting on his "James Donaldson" disguise. I stared at him curiously. "Dad, what are you doing?" I questioned fervently. Worry and panic began to build up, putting enormous pressure on my chest as the need to pee made it's existence known again.
He stopped halfway putting on a fake, bushy mustache and looked over at me with innocence in his dark brown eyes. "Your principal thought it would be a good idea for me to accompany you in school today, you know, to make sure you behave," he answered with a nervous giggle.
"YOU CAN'T GO TO SCHOOL WITH ME, DAD!" I shouted, further irritating my bladder. "THAT IS SO FUCKING LAME! THEY'RE GONNA BULLY ME TEN TIMES MORE!"
Dad firmly pressed his mustache to his upper lip and looked at me sternly. "Ain't nobody gonna bully my baby boy on my watch!" he growled as he slammed his fist down on the dashboard. "I'll moonwalk up and down their ass and SHAMONE them into oblivion!"
"OMG, Dad!" I covered my face with my hands in embarrassment. I felt the skin on my cheeks burn furiously.
"Now let's go. You have an English class to get to in-" he looked at his watch, "two minutes."
We got out of the car. "Can I go pee first?"
"There's no time!" He grabbed my arm and ushered me into the building. "We have to make it upstairs and to the other side of the school before the bell rings. All you need to do is get there in time for attendance and then ask the teacher for a hall pass to go to the restroom. But make sure you ask, 'May I use the restroom?' instead of, 'Can I use the bathroom?' Otherwise, the smartass will say, 'I dunno, can you?' and then make you wait until the end of class."
"But, Dad! Mr. McGee is super strict and never gives out hall passes. Last year, he wouldn't even let the most popular girl in school go to the nurse's office during class even though she was bleeding profusely after her crazy ex boyfriend shot a blow dart at her from outside the classroom and punctured her jugular vein."
"Dumb question, but why didn't you just pee in the sink or in the bathtub?" Many people, especially a lot of hot girls, that were standing in the hallway heard my dad's embarrassing question as we walked by, and they all laughed.
"That's gross!" My cheeks burned redder than a radish.
"That's what Lysol is for!"
We made it to the classroom, my bladder fuller and angrier than ever. I sat down in the desk in the far corner by the window just as the bell rang. My father stood next to me with his hands folded behind his back and his posture perfect as ever. I gawked at him. I never understood how nobody could tell that my father was the King of Pop, Michael Jackson, in disguise since his disguises were barely enough to cover up the most recognizable face in the universe. I supposed it was the same principle as nobody recognizing that Hannah Montana was just Miley Stewart in a blond wig.
Mr. McGee walked in a few seconds after the bell and shared a smile with my father once he spotted him next to me. "Hello, Mr. Donaldson," he greeted him. "Good to see you and your son could join me for class on time today."
My father's eyes darted towards me. I could tell by the look in his eyes that we were both thinking the same thing: Mr. McGee was an asshat. Despite his snake detectors going off wildly, my father smiled at him. "Pleasure to see you again, Jeanette," Dad responded, being a sly little rascal as always. I covered my mouth to muffle my giggle at my father's subtle roast of my English teacher. Everyone else in class had to stifle their giggles as well. They may not have liked me, but they all sure loved my dad. "Oh, I'm sorry. You go by Jean now. My bad."
Mr. McGee's mouth drooped into a frown. "You can call me Mr. McGee, Mr. Donaldson," he said angrily.
Felix, Jack, and Mark shuffled into the room. They were being rowdy and laughing like hyenas on steroids taking testosterone supplements. Dad looked at them with a bemused look on his face. He looked back at Mr. McGee expectantly, anticipating him to discipline the late students, but he remained silent and started going through the class roster as Felix and his friends sat around me. It pissed me off because they weren't getting in trouble for being late, whereas, had I went to the bathroom like I really needed to and was a few seconds late, I would have gotten detention again. I could tell it upset Dad as well because he cleared his throat, silencing the class and getting everyone's attention. My parents were the only people Felix had any respect for, so it didn't surprise me when he hushed his friends and looked up at my father. "Mr. McGee?" Dad called to him, interrupting roll call.
Mr. McGee smirked at him. "What?" he answered snidely.
"These three boys were two minutes late to class," he remarked respectfully. "They should be disciplined."
Mr. McGee visibly became miffed. "Do not tell me what should or shouldn't be done in my class."
Dad rolled his eyes. "So, I shouldn't tell you that you need to stop flirting with your underage students because, not only is it morally disgusting and very illegal to do so, literally no female on this planet, or any of them for that matter, would go out with a man that looks like a thumb with hair, smells like wet dog, and has the attitude of a very angry, short Austrian man that didn't get into art school?" He looked around the room. "We all know the guy."
Laughter erupted around the room. I couldn't help but laugh myself. It was so unusual for my dad to be that vicious, and his savagery was uncalled for but very necessary. It was a long time coming for Mr. McGee; I just didn't think my quiet, polite father would be the one to call him out. I didn't even think my father really listened to me when I told him about my concerns around teachers like Mr. McGee. I felt relieved and slightly elated that there actually was someone listening to me. I held my father in even higher regards because of it.
Mr. McGee tried a rebuttal, but Dad slapped him down again. "Listen, opossum boy, I know you have an affinity for eating trash, but you should really consider brushing your teeth once in a while. I can smell your breath all the way back here, and my eyes have never burned this bad before."
The laughter persisted louder. It must have been audible from the front office downstairs because the principal stepped into the doorway of our classroom. "What is going on in here?" she inquired, obviously annoyed.
"We are just expressing our concerns regarding the morality, or rather, lack thereof, of Mr. McGee," Dad responded with elegance.
The class exploded into a chant. "FIRE MR. MCGEE!" they cheered. "FIRE MR. MCGEE. FIRE MR. MCGEE."
The principal narrowed her eyes at my father and me. "I want to see both of you in my office," she muttered, effectively silencing the class's excited rioting with her cold glare.
"Yes, ma'am," Dad said sheepishly, eyes glued to the floor. He headed towards the door. I stood up to follow, but my bladder decided it had enough. I peed my pants like a nervous Nelly on the first day of kindergarten, and the class blurted out laughing again. My cheeks burned as I felt the warm liquid soak my shorts and run down my legs into my shoes. The only one who didn't laugh--aside from the principal and Dad, who looked rather disappointed--was Felix because he knew if he laughed, my father and mother would gang up on him and beat the Swedish right out of him. He was filming it, though, and so was everyone else in the class as they cackled at my pain.
The urine puddled at my feet just like the ocean water did the day before. I covered the pee spot on my shorts with my hands and cautiously took a step forward. My foot slid, and I fell back on the floor, landing in my own pee as if peeing my pants wasn't already embarrassing enough. I started to bawl, tears falling down my cheeks and landing on the floor, mixing with my pee. Dad rushed over to help me off the floor. The humiliation was worse having my father there to see it, to see that his perfect son was just a six foot four inch tall loser that couldn't do anything right.
Once I was off the floor, my father guided me to the boys' locker room downstairs in the gym so I could take a shower.