This is me
Prior to talking about me, I would like to introduce to you a certain species that will play a major role in this story: the self-important epitome of manliness, the man who stands up in order to relief his bladder. The main characteristic of this ignoramus is that he, frankly speaking, does not give a shit (or to be more precise: he does not give a whizz). About anything! Bursting with masculinity, he does not only mark his territory in the grossest way possible, it is apparently also beneath him to clean up his own mess! In no way does this hillbilly take into consideration that his female counterparts are not blessed with hoses attached to their bodies and that their feet, consequently, have to take an involuntary bath in this prole’s precious pee. Thoughtless is he standing in front of the lemony fresh porcelain bowl — wiggling, waggling, jiggling — covering tiles and toilet in a golden mist, humming a manly melody. Hmmmmm… Aaaaaah! What a relief! Empty-bladdered, he zips up, flushes the loo with his contaminated phallus-fingers and leaves the room. Being a proper man, he will not fold down the toilet seat either. Of course!
And the worst thing is: this condition does not seem to be curable. As soon as the victim is captivated by the mighty God of the golden gush, the Urinator, the poor soul becomes obsessed. This usually happens when being the most vulnerable: during early childhood. Little boys do not yet know how to withstand the brainwashing techniques of the Urinator, who tries — with all means — to plant a single thought in the boys’ heads: Stand up if you don’t want to be a wimp! And if their creators do not show them how to activate their shields, they will be lost, probably forever.
And this is where I come into play. I am Tinklebelle and I fight against the smelly evil. I am dedicated to rescue those already under the spell of the mighty Urinator. My aim is to free our wet cells from that nasty golden mist. And this is not by cleaning up the manly mess. I get into the cloudy brains of those oh so masculine numbskulls. They will be finding notes, all sorts of annoying notes: above the holy bowl, on and underneath the lid, colourful notes, notes written in big font sizes and drawings — all sorts of drawings. Wherever their glaze wanders before and while doing their number one, they will be reminded of how inconsiderate and disrespectful they are behaving. And they will be lectured. And they will clean their impressionist artwork! Tinkle is their paint and the bathroom is their canvas. And they shall see their brainwashed macho-faces reflecting from the tiles beneath them. And I will supervise them, humming a melody of justice. Hmmmmm… Aaaaaaah!
Edited with thanks to Elena
