I’ve Been Pissing Into A Shop-Vac For Weeks And Now I Can’t Stop
I had never felt as torn between my ideas of “right” and “wrong” as I was in those initial days.
The dulcet tones of “Happy Birthday” were still echoing in the room when my father placed the large box at my feet. The clumsy wrapping paper barely camouflaged what was inside. It had been a while since either of my parents had wrapped a gift so large and imposing. I was 34, after all, far past the age for such grandiose offerings. You didn’t have to wrap a gift card or a nice lunch at a medium-priced restaurant. I tore off the wrapping paper and uncovered the darkest phase of my life: A brand new Shop-Vac.
“Don’t piss into it,” my father said sternly, his eyes holding mine with a long, morose stare. He was a serious man and this was a serious request. Everyone around the table, my brothers, my mother, was silent. The thought hadn’t even entered my mind, and now it felt like it would never leave.
I had never felt as torn between my ideas of “right” and “wrong” as I was in those initial days. The box sat in the corner of the living room of my bachelor suite. I covered it with towels and spare bedding, but the bottom left corner of the box peaked out, touting its “Super Sucking Action.” What a tease. On the third day, with my…
