She found the spittoon at a garage sale on her way home early in December. It needed some work, but she saw what it could be and bought it. Back at home, she went to the work room in the backyard. She filled the piece with water and let it soak until the sun hit noon. Polish and elbow grease and time and aching shoulders and a sore back later it was done. The sun reflected off of the brass surface.
The house had to have the perfect place for it. She ran through each nook in her mind and decided upon the empty corner in the spare bathroom. Satisfied, she moved on to cleaning up the work room and the preparing dinner.
~~
The week had been beige. He hated beige. So he decided to buy something lovely for the house to make himself feel better and make her smile. The overpriced floral shop spoke to him, and so he walked in and grabbed the first medium sized bouquet that had daisies and left.
She was already home, but he heard her in the kitchen and decided to sneak to the back and set up the arrangement for her. A slight glitch: there were no vases in his room, in her room, in the bathroom, or the hall closet. He heard her heading down the hall, and he ducked into the spare toilet. There was the spittoon. Not perfect but it would work. He placed the flowers in it, added some water, and returned it to its spot.
~~
Dinner had ended. He had finished the dishes, and they were reading on the couch. She suddenly jumped up and ran to grab what she had wanted to show him all night. He smiled and waited for her return, but the smile faded as her footsteps clomped back into the living room. She glared at him, placed the spittoon in the center of the floor, dropped her skirts around it, and he heard the piss pouring from her. He screamed, but she only stopped when she was done.
The moral of the story:
You don't put flowers in a spittoon.
My grandfather had a spittoon in his bathroom this Xmas. Apparently my grandmother said that she would put flowers in it. My grandfather said he would pee on them, because you don't put flowers in a spittoon.
The house had to have the perfect place for it. She ran through each nook in her mind and decided upon the empty corner in the spare bathroom. Satisfied, she moved on to cleaning up the work room and the preparing dinner.
~~
The week had been beige. He hated beige. So he decided to buy something lovely for the house to make himself feel better and make her smile. The overpriced floral shop spoke to him, and so he walked in and grabbed the first medium sized bouquet that had daisies and left.
She was already home, but he heard her in the kitchen and decided to sneak to the back and set up the arrangement for her. A slight glitch: there were no vases in his room, in her room, in the bathroom, or the hall closet. He heard her heading down the hall, and he ducked into the spare toilet. There was the spittoon. Not perfect but it would work. He placed the flowers in it, added some water, and returned it to its spot.
~~
Dinner had ended. He had finished the dishes, and they were reading on the couch. She suddenly jumped up and ran to grab what she had wanted to show him all night. He smiled and waited for her return, but the smile faded as her footsteps clomped back into the living room. She glared at him, placed the spittoon in the center of the floor, dropped her skirts around it, and he heard the piss pouring from her. He screamed, but she only stopped when she was done.
The moral of the story:
You don't put flowers in a spittoon.
My grandfather had a spittoon in his bathroom this Xmas. Apparently my grandmother said that she would put flowers in it. My grandfather said he would pee on them, because you don't put flowers in a spittoon.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment