Last night, right before bed, I peed on a gecko. A gecko in my toilet. A gecko I only discovered AFTER I stood up to flush because, OF COURSE, I didn’t pee on it on purpose.
(So many strange “golden shower” jokes right now.)
And let me tell you, it was an odd moment when I stood over that toilet, reaching for the handle and trying to register what that… thing… was in the water. Even odder when I figured it out.
OH SHIT A LIZARD, A REPTILE, 4 INCHES FROM MY ASS. WHAT IF IT TRIED TO CRAWL OUT? OR UP? OR INTO SOMETHING?????? << That’s what I was thinking, all while screaming the most flipped out, girly version of “Ewwww!! EWEEWWWWEEWWW! EEEK! EWWeeewwwwwEewwwwwWWWWW!”
And you know what, friends? You can NOT see a gecko in the toilet right after you just peed- a gecko that did not appear to be there BEFORE you peed- and NOT suddenly feel a sensation in your lady parts similar to what you think peeing a gecko out would feel like.
You can grab your crotch now and squeal. I’ll wait. (Sooo… that line has totally different meaning when taken out of context.)
Yes, I made my husband flush it. I honestly did not give a second thought as to whether he was dead or alive. I mean, the view alone probably gave him a tiny gecko heart attack. But if that didn’t seal the deal? Uhm, I just covered him in urine.
I’m sort of feeling remorseful for that today… a little. But mostly I’m just totally wigged out and trying to burn the sensation from my mind of what it must feel like to pee out a gecko.
And yes, rational me knows I didn’t actually pee the gecko out… or give birth to it… in a toilet… like I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant With a Gecko.
Irrational me just won’t shut up sometimes. Irrational me also makes rational me lift up the seat of the toilet, slam it back down and then flush BEFORE sitting down to pee… you know, just that one time that I HAD to pee because I’d been holding it all day out of fear.