He had been dying for the toilet for at least two hours, but there had been nowhere to stop.
Now he'd reached the service station and he had to contend with the fact that it felt like someone had swapped his legs for those of a cripple as he staggered across the car park.
His bladder felt like a space hopper and he raced into the toilet, almost putting the wooden door straight through the badly-tiled wall as he entered.
He tore down his zip and stood ready.
He was ready.
Come on, I'm ready.
Nothing happened.
He felt like he might burst, but he couldn't pee.
He was still standing there five hours later when the attendant came in to tell him he was locking the toilet for the night.
He went back to his car, still ready to burst.
No comments:
Post a Comment