Abelard’s Pissior

Abelard struggled through the tavern. Each step was difficult as he felt his bowels rumble in warning. He sucked his butt cheeks firmly together and prayed he would make it through the mass of tightly packed bodies. The heat from the crowd gave the tavern a sickly moist aroma. Discretely passing small flourishes of wind to relieve pressure, he was confident no-one would correctly identify him as the culprit. He headed for a door by the side of the bar.

Abelard started down a long hallway with doors lining both sides. He politely knocked on each one and called out a hello before opening them.

“Damn it,” he muttered in disappointment as none of them were what he was seeking. At the end of the hall he opened the last door. He groaned when he saw that it was a stairwell.

“Bloody hell, doesn’t anyone need a toilet here.” Taking a deep breath and clenching his arse a little bit more, he began to ascend. He paused at the next landing to pull his handkerchief out and dab his face.

“Right, hang on just a bit more,” he said. “Bound to be one on this floor.” Yanking the door open he shuffled sideways from one side of the hall to the other, no longer bothering to knock before he looked into each room. When Abelard came to the end of this hall his shuffle had turned into a sideways skip as he tried to keep his legs together from the knees up. The pressure was now almost unbearable, and his hair was hanging limp from sweat.

In the end room he finally found one. Slamming the door shut behind him he hobbled painfully towards it. Lifting the lid Abelard was devastated when it wobbled. He realised that it wasn’t connected properly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he was crying as he spoke. Through his tears he noticed it was perched on a hole cut to its shape. “Bugger, it will have to do,” he mumbled to himself. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He hoped whoever came to finish the job wouldn’t mind too much, but he was nearing insanity with need. He unzipped his pants and pushed his buttocks together with his hands as he manoeuvred himself onto the seat.

“Ahh. Ohh. Thank Christ.” Abelard’s head dropped into his hands as his bowels opened. When he was finished he used his handkerchief and dropped it down the hole. He listened by the door before opening it and peering out. Satisfied that no-one was in the hall he stepped out smiling and closed the door quietly.

“Now lad,” he said to himself. “Time to go back downstairs and have some fun.” Abelard strutted as he took the stairs two at a time. Before re-entering the tavern he adjusted his attire as he preened about in front of a full-length mirror.

“What the hell.” The tavern was empty. The music from the jukebox bounced off the walls of the empty room. “Hello,” he called out. “Where is everyone?” From behind the bar he saw two eyes staring at him.

“Where’d everybody go?” he asked. The eyes scanned the counter top before their owner placed his hands on it and pulled himself erect. “What happened?” Abelard queried. The eyes’ owner looked surprised at Abelard’s appearance.

“Where were you?” he asked Abelard

“Pardon,” Abelard replied.

“Where were you?” the man asked again. “When the shit hit the fan.”


There are two things I know for certain. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. Two: I want to hear your opinion.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s