"That was the curious incident." ~Sherlock Holmes
I was visiting my sister last weekend. While we were sitting at the table on Sunday night, playing cards and joking around, our mother called. She chit-chatted with my sister for a few moments, and then asked to speak to me. What a story she had to tell!
Apparently, when she came downstairs about 7AM that morning, she found my father --as nekkid as a jaybird--sitting on the commode next to his bed, his adult diaper flung on the floor. Already this is odd, as most times he doesn't even seem to be aware that there is anything next to his bed, much less understand what a commode is and what it is used for.
Let me recreate the conversation for you......as it was told to me.
Mom: "What's going on here? What are you doing?" (you'd think this was obvious, wouldn't you?)
Dad: "I had a terrible accident."
Mom: "What do you mean? What happened?" (did she think he'd been out driving around all night?)
Dad: "I had an awful accident and made a mess."
Mom: "What are you talking about? What kind of accident? (somehow a naked man sitting on a commode wasn't enough of a hint?)
Dad: "I made a mess in my pants by mistake"
Mom picks up the no-frills brand of Depends and sneaks a peek inside. It's wet, but no poop.
Mom: "No, you didn't have an accident, there's nothing here."
Dad: "Yes, I did, too. A BIG accident."
Thinking that it may have rolled out of the adult diaper when he flung it off, my 83-year old mother now begins The Hunt for the Lost Poop.....under the bed, in the bed, under the commode......anywhere a piece of poop could possibly roll to. All this to no avail; the alleged poop eluded her.
At this point of the story, I was screaming with laughter, tears pouring down my face. Not only did I find the story a riot in and of itself, by then all I could hear inside my head was my sister singing, "On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese/I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed"
The punchline? As of this writing, no rogue doody has been recovered. Daddy did, however, poop in the commode.
I was visiting my sister last weekend. While we were sitting at the table on Sunday night, playing cards and joking around, our mother called. She chit-chatted with my sister for a few moments, and then asked to speak to me. What a story she had to tell!
Apparently, when she came downstairs about 7AM that morning, she found my father --as nekkid as a jaybird--sitting on the commode next to his bed, his adult diaper flung on the floor. Already this is odd, as most times he doesn't even seem to be aware that there is anything next to his bed, much less understand what a commode is and what it is used for.
Let me recreate the conversation for you......as it was told to me.
Mom: "What's going on here? What are you doing?" (you'd think this was obvious, wouldn't you?)
Dad: "I had a terrible accident."
Mom: "What do you mean? What happened?" (did she think he'd been out driving around all night?)
Dad: "I had an awful accident and made a mess."
Mom: "What are you talking about? What kind of accident? (somehow a naked man sitting on a commode wasn't enough of a hint?)
Dad: "I made a mess in my pants by mistake"
Mom picks up the no-frills brand of Depends and sneaks a peek inside. It's wet, but no poop.
Mom: "No, you didn't have an accident, there's nothing here."
Dad: "Yes, I did, too. A BIG accident."
Thinking that it may have rolled out of the adult diaper when he flung it off, my 83-year old mother now begins The Hunt for the Lost Poop.....under the bed, in the bed, under the commode......anywhere a piece of poop could possibly roll to. All this to no avail; the alleged poop eluded her.
At this point of the story, I was screaming with laughter, tears pouring down my face. Not only did I find the story a riot in and of itself, by then all I could hear inside my head was my sister singing, "On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese/I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed"
The punchline? As of this writing, no rogue doody has been recovered. Daddy did, however, poop in the commode.
