By Gypsie Ami Offenbacher-Ferris
I had to go, I really had to go and headed for the chair doing the worst impression of a duck walk there ever was.
Oh the chair, that glorious chair with the magic hole beneath it; we all love you so, all the more since we don’t have to squat our bare butts down on a bush full of thorns or worse, a log full of chiggers!
Sweet relief once I take that seat and let nature flow but, day of all days, my zipper is stuck and my jeans are lodged half way down my hips.
The sound of that zzzzzip is sweet music to my ass-urance that an accident I will not make.
I turn and sit down and discover within a cloud of foul smelling mess, that something is sorely amiss!
“Dad,” I yell at the top of my lungs waiting for him to appear, “you forgot to make a HOLE in this here chair!”