Bad To The Last Drop

Post Urination Drip

Don’t look so shocked. Someone out there had to have the nads to bring this shameful secret to light, and I’m just the Geek to do it. PUD has haunted mankind since the dawn of time and no one has ever mentioned it. Because we’re all ashamed to tell the world that we pee our pants.

Don’t look so high and mighty; you know it’s happened to you.

Oh yes, it has. No one likes to talk about it, we all pretend that it doesn’t happen, but it does. And the truly sad thing is; everyone knows it. It’s a fact of nature that cannot be denied and no matter what we do to try and stop it, we never will. We shake, we wipe, we squeeze, we even do little dances and pray in front of the porcelain alter in the hopes that just once, just this one frickin time, it won’t happen to us. And every time, every single time, the porcelain gods laugh as that one last drop spreads its wet warmth around our loins and we spend the next half-hour doing the “Am I showing wetness” crotch-check. And then, as a final, cruel joke, because your crotch is now cold and wet, you swear you need to pee again.

And you know you don’t.

Every day we live in dread of the moment when PUD will happen to us. If a pharmaceutical company were to spend the time and money to create a pill that would eradicate PUD from the world I think they’d make billions, as long as they didn’t give it some stupid name like PUD-B-Gone, Urin-NOT or DripAway. No one would want to be caught dead carrying a little bottle with one of those names on it. Can you imagine the water-cooler talk if someone saw you popping DripAway at the office?

“Hey Frank, you hear about GeekMan?”
“No. What’s up?”
“He’s got a… little… problem.”
“What? Drugs?”
“No. Worse. He’s got a [vague hand gesture] little problem.”
“What? Oh. OH! You mean…?” [spills a drop of water on floor]
“Yeah.”
“Wow. The poor schmuck.”
“I know.”
“We should do something.”
[awkward silence]
“Do you think Hallmark has a card for this?”