Several years ago a young man (for the sake of making him more distinguishable from the other personae in this story we will presume that he was red haired. And his name is John) went out for a night with his friends. After many rounds of beer he decided that he had to use the bar’s bathroom, in order to relieve himself.
As he stood at the urinal, a sturdy man with a crew cut entered and started using the pissoir next to him. The ginger boy couldn’t help noticing that the man didn’t just relieve himself with one stream of urine, but in fact three separate streams hit the porcelain. Due to the combination of alcohol and curiosity, he decided to overcome his usual shyness. “Tell me sir, I noticed that you do not pee with a single stream but in multiple streams. I wonder, is this an acquired phenomenon or a hereditary defect?”
The sturdy man turned to him, smiled and answered politely. ”Actually, ginger boy, I’m somewhat flattered that you ask me this. It is in fact an intriguing story. I am a veteran from the second golf war. One day we were hunting down the enemy and we formed a foot patrol to do so. Alas, next to our footpath the enemy had hidden a IED *), which went off just as I passed by. I was lucky: a piece of shrapnel damaged Mr. Willy, but through diligent surgery, the doctors managed to rescue my manhood. However, ginger boy, I have not been able to pee in a single stream since.”
In awe, the boy left the facilities, and couldn’t wait to tell his chums.
Many months later, the boy visited the same bar, and again after a long evening of drinking he needed to go to the bathroom to relieve himself. As he stood at the urinal, a powerful yet obviously drunk marine, also with a crew cut entered, and took position at the pissoir next to him. Ginger boy stole sideward glances at the man. Finally he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “I’m sorry sir! I couldn’t help noticing that you are not peeing in a single stream but in fact you produce at least a dozen streamlets! Are you perhaps a veteran of the second golf war!?”
The other man looked down and cursed. “Damn. I’ve… I’ve forgotten to open the bloody zipper.”
*) in case you do not know what an IED entails, make sure to read pages 130- 150 of my novel Fields of Fire