[dropcap]A [/dropcap]few weeks ago, I was on my way into the Bass Pro Shop, when I saw a young boy standing conspicuously close to the bushes. As I approached, I realized he was urinating in the shrubs, right there in front of God and country.

I wasn’t shocked, nor was I offended. The truth is, when I was a lad, I too had a teacup bladder. Yes, back in my day I had lots of urinary misadventures that didn’t end too well for me – or for my pants.

Unsure of what to do, I decided to help the boy out, and shield him from the onlookers gathering around him, people were beginning to stare.

“Thanks,” the boy said. “I couldn’t hold it.”

“You don’t have to explain Daniel-Son, I’ve had to raise a leg plenty of times myself.”

The small crowd grew into a bigger crowd. Before the boy was finished, there were nearly forty people lingering around us, watching Little Willie drain his radiator.

I smiled and waved to the bystanders.

“You about finished back there King Neptune?” I whispered.

“Almost.”

The boy finished, and zipped up. When he turned to face our spectators, his cheeks were bright red. I attempted to diffuse the situation, and addressed the crowd, “Folks, you’ll have to pardon my friend, we’re very religious you see.”

“Religious?” one lady said. “What does religion have to do with anything?”

I made the sign of the cross and answered her, “We’re Pisscopal.”

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