The Urinal


This weekend I’ll be attending the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group Conference in Allentown, Pennsylvania (A-Town represent!). It’s an opportunity to attend some workshops, meet some contacts, and coexist with fellow writers…and then go back and sleep in my own bed at night. I’ll be pitching to some agents there, and I’ve decided to enter a story into their super short flash contest (100 words or less…yikes!).

I have this theory that the world is full of whiny bitches and that’s why people love whiny, woe-is-me victim stories and it’s even better if it’s written by some sort of “oppressed” minority. The sopping wet ultra-vagina of these whiny bitch stories is “A Child Called It.”

Boo hoo. My mom locked me in the basement and made me eat garbage. Get over it, Dave Pelzer! She gave you an awesome name. “It” kicks the shit out of the name, “Dave.” What a crybaby!

Anyway, I’ve decided to put this theory to the test and write a victim story as my entry for the flash contest. The story is about a newly promoted woman being hazed by her male counterparts in her private bathroom. I call it…THE URINAL!

Since it’s only 100 words, I’m including the entire story below. I think it’s just pathetic enough to have a chance to win! Enjoy!

Margaret stared into the white porcelain of the urinal inside her new managerial bathroom. The muffled laughter of the other managers (known as the boys’ club) leaked through the door.

She glanced over at the familiar sit-down toilet, wrapped in a half inch of packing tape, and then back at the urinal. She wanted to sprint down the hall to the ladies’ room and then return to her comfortable cubicle where she had worked the past fifteen years.

Instead, she turned around, hiked her skirt to her waist, and dropped her underwear to her $300 heels.


~ by themoderntranscendentalist on March 14, 2012.

2 Responses to “The Urinal”

  1. If her aim is that good and she doesn’t get any on the floor, I think she deserves to be accepted by “The Boys Club”, no questions asked.

  2. I agree. Hell, even I miss sometimes.

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