Piss Date
I have found the path to world peace, and it’s drinking another man’s piss
For quite some time, I’ve been fascinated with piss. I’ve racked my brain to find a hidden wound from the past that would shed some urine on why I have the desire for someone to piss into my mouth. Something in me must be warped, right?
The immediate assumption that I’m warped may go back to childhood. I went to a private academy for elementary school. Its sole purpose, seemingly, was to make one feel guilty for listening to rock music, even Christian rock music. How dare ye listen to the evils of Steven Curtis Chapman and DC Talk? The school also seemed intent on making one feel guilty for even existing.
Somewhere amid being paddled, memorizing entire pages of scripture, singing hymns for our parents while holding Bibles in the air like swords, and laying the groundwork for a decent education, my friends and I showed our cocks to each other in the bathroom. A superficial, evolutionary pecking order was established: small, medium, large. The power dynamic of the group seemed to follow that order, too.
Or maybe it was morality-based: dicks were bad, decent, and perfect. Or possibly value-based: cheap dick, okay-quality dick, and the best dick. Whether it was Darwin in our minds, Jesus in our hearts, or rampant American…
